Bereft
by Fluid Consciousness
Summary: What happens when Duncan decides to recruit Amell into the Wardens even after she'd undergone the Rite of Tranquility? Would she prove to be an invaluable asset, or would the consequences be dire?
1. A Life of Tranquility

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age and its characters. I own a can of Five Alive.

**A/N: **Hullo all! What would it be like being Tranquil _and _a Warden? Is such a thing possible? Follow me and you'll see!

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_Send a heartbeat to  
The void that cries through you  
Relive the pictures that have come to pass  
For now we stand alone  
The world is lost and blown  
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate  
With no more to hate_

_~The Beginning is the End is the Beginning – Smashing Pumpkins~_

"Welcome to the magical stockroom. My name is Solona, how can I be of service?" The greeting spilled from her lips just as it always did; just as it had for the past two weeks. The mage standing before her seemed…what was the word? She struggled to find the appropriate term to describe the mage's countenance. Saddened. Distraught. Troubled. All of these things.

"Oh Sol, how could they do this to you? It's not fair! Jowan is the one to blame, and yet they took it out on you…" the mage's eyes were brimming with tears. Solona remembered her from her time as an apprentice. "Aren't you angry?"

"No, I am not. I feel nothing. It is not an unpleasant sensation, and you needn't concern yourself," Solona replied. She watched as the mage's lip trembled. A tell-tale sign that the girl would start to weep. Solona's expression remained impassive.

"What did it feel like?" the mage suddenly asked. "When they…did it. Did it hurt?"

"It felt as though I had walked through a wall of flames. When I emerged on the other side, a sudden clarity took hold. I am no longer blinded by emotions. Everything makes sense."

The mage tilted her head to one side, her expression was that of…confusion? Curiosity? Uncertainty? All of these things.

"Strange," the mage said. "Owain compared it to being submerged in ice cold water. I wonder if it's different for everyone."

"I do not know," Solona replied automatically.

"Kara! Stop harassing the poor girl. She is obviously busy." A new person entered the stockroom. The First Enchanter.

"Welcome to the magical stockroom. My name is Solona, how can I be of service?"

The First Enchanter chuckled. "Yes, my dear. I am well aware of who you are. There is nothing that I require, though I bring news. You will be travelling to Ostagar to assist with the king's battle against the darkspawn. They are desperate for help, and I believe it will be most beneficial for you. You will be able to learn from the other Tranquils."

"As you wish," Solona replied. "I shall gather my belongings."

The First Enchanter smiled at her. "One of the templars has already done so. Do you remember Cullen?"

"Yes."

"He will escort you to the carriage that will take you to Ostagar. He is waiting by your chambers," the First Enchanter explained.

"I will seek him out immediately," Solona said.

The young templar was waiting for her, just as the First Enchanter had said he would be. Solona approached him, and he seemed to shift uncomfortably. "I was told that you will be escorting me to the carriage."

"Y-yes, yes I am." His gaze slid from her eyes, to her lips. He seemed to be battling some sort of inner struggle. Solona simply continued to watch him. He scratched the back of his neck. "How are you?"

"I am well," she replied. "My belongings are in my chambers?"

Cullen nodded, holding the door open for her. She passed through and took note of the large sack sitting on her bed. She heard the door close.

"It isn't right, what they did to you. You had so much talent…so much passion. You were always so confident," he murmured softly. Solona turned to him. He was standing mere inches away from her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Do you feel anything?"

"No."

He leaned forward, his lips pressed against hers. She made no sign of moving. He began to run his fingers through her thick ginger hair. Solona stood motionless. He pulled away, his eyes a mixture of sadness and desire. "I've always wanted to do that." She continued to watch him. "I finally gather the courage to do it, and you don't feel anything. How's that for irony?"

"I do not know."

Cullen sighed and shook his head. "I wish you did…" he whispered. He slung her bag over his shoulder and walked her to the front gates.

**~*O*~*O*~**

"I'm not sure why Irving sent you here. It's not as though you'll be able to do anything," the brown haired mage complained. "A Tranquil that has yet to learn how to fold lyrium? You're practically useless."

Solona had arrived in Ostagar that morning. The area was utterly chaotic. Guards, messengers and warriors ran from one side of the ruins to the other. The air was ripe with anticipation for the upcoming battle. She had found her way to the mages' encampment easily enough. The other Tranquils busied themselves with enchanting armour and performing other such tasks. Solona stood by and watched them work, taking in the process they used. It was the only way to learn. Then the rather surly brown haired mage had set his sights on her. From then on he'd been pestering her. Solona didn't mind, she simply stood and listened to his tirade. The brown haired mage had taken an immediate disliking to her. Solona did not understand his animosity. "The First Enchanter told me that I was to observe the other Tranquils and learn from them."

"That doesn't help me in the slightest!" He sighed exasperatedly. "What am I to do with a useless Tranquil?"

"Now is that any way to speak to a lady?"

Solona's eyes shifted to the approaching newcomer. She recognized him. The Grey Warden who visited the Tower just before she'd been made Tranquil. He chased off the mage and smiled at her warmly. "I apologize, but I am unfamiliar with the process one must undergo when becoming Tranquil. Do you remember me?"

"Yes. You are Duncan of the Grey Wardens. You conscripted me after I attempted to help Jowan escape his fate of becoming Tranquil," Solona said.

Something flashed behind Duncan's eyes. Anger? "And yet the Knight-Commander saw fit to make you Tranquil despite the fact that I had conscripted you. I assure you, his actions will not go unpunished," the Warden intoned darkly. Solona had no response. "Regardless, the conscription stands, and you must undergo the Joining process. I have documents from the First Enchanter that confirm what I've just told you." He handed Solona a missive bearing the First Enchanter's seal. She opened it and briefly scanned the note. It was as the Grey Warden had explained. She was to undergo the Joining. "Follow me, Solona. We will go to the Grey Warden camp and wait for the other recruits. I imagine you must be extremely confused by this turn of events."

"No, I am not."

Duncan sighed softly. "You ought to be, and the fact that you're not is a travesty in and of itself."

**~*O*~*O*~**

She watched the fire flicker before her eyes. Duncan had left her to her thoughts after handing her a bowl of stew. She ate it to replenish her energy. She did not savour the taste of the meat, did not feel grateful for Duncan's show of hospitality. She simply watched the fire. After a time, Duncan announced that the other recruits had arrived as well as a junior member of the order, Alistair. She turned, and Alistair inhaled sharply.

"Duncan! You recruited a Tranquil?" he sputtered.

"I had no choice, Alistair. I conscripted her to save her from this fate. Greagoir went behind my back and made her Tranquil despite the conscription." Solona noted that Duncan was struggling to reign in his anger at the Knight-Commander's actions.

"But shouldn't she be back at the Tower? Surely you must know that she cannot survive any form of combat! She'll more than likely perish as soon as a darkspawn engages her."

Duncan folded his arms over his chest. "There is more at work here than you realize, Alistair. Once someone has been conscripted, they are _our _responsibility. While you and the other two recruits prepare for the Joining, she will stay behind."

"Lucky her," piped up a grizzled looking man in light armour. "What's her name anyway?"

"I am Solona," she replied.

"Where are my manners?" the blond Warden said. "My lady Solona, this is Ser Jory, a knight from Redcliffe."

"How do you do?" greeted the balding knight.

"This here is Daveth, a _fellow_ from Denerim."

"Charmed, milady," Daveth inclined his head toward her.

"And I am Alistair, junior member of the Grey Wardens," he held out his hand and Solona grasped it automatically. Her eyes flickered for a fraction of a second, but Alistair didn't seem to notice. He released her hand and awaited instructions from Duncan. They were to collect darkspawn blood, and retrieve ancient treaties. Solona was hardly paying attention. She had turned back to the campfire. Should she tell one of the mages about what had just happened? Perhaps Duncan? No, more than likely it was a side effect of the Rite of Tranquility. Why else would her heart flutter at the blond Warden's touch?

**~*O*~*O*~**

What was Duncan thinking, bringing a defenceless Tranquil into the Order? What possible reason could he have? Surely there were ways around the rules of conscription. It seemed incredibly cold to put her life at risk when she was so obviously under qualified. Alistair and the two other recruits were returning from their task. He led the men to the Grey Warden camp, unsure if he should relate the encounter they'd had with Morrigan and her insane mother. He decided that he'd only mention it if one of the other two men brought it up. As they approached the camp, Alistair was once again struck dumb by the Tranquil woman. She was not beautiful in the traditional sense, but there was something about her…the way her rich copper hair hung loosely about her shoulders. His fingers twitched with a desire to run his hands through those tresses. Perhaps it was the way her obsidian eyes coolly assessed everything in her immediate vicinity. It was true, those eyes held no emotion, yet in their brief meeting he could have sworn he saw a faint flicker behind them. She watched as they came to a stop in front of Duncan. He spared a glance in her direction. She was so pale…was it from spending her life inside the Tower? Her alabaster skin and the smattering of freckles across her cheeks seemed to be in direct conflict with the dark colour of her eyes. The contrast was unsettling on one hand, yet utterly alluring on the other.

"Alistair? Did you hear what I said?"

Alistair cleared his throat. "Yes, bring them to the old temple for the ritual. No problem."

The four of them headed to the temple, and Alistair felt his stomach begin to tighten. Would any of the recruits survive? He had high hopes for Jory, despite the fact that he'd shown quite a bit of fear throughout their excursion in the Wilds. Daveth also held his own in battle. It was the Tranquil woman that Alistair was concerned about. She would never survive the Joining. As they reached the platform and waited for Duncan, he couldn't help but strike up a conversation with her. He knew from his time training to be a templar that she wouldn't be the most…animated of women, but he needed to talk to _someone_, and Jory and Daveth were far too busy bickering with each other.

"So…" he began, his gaze drifting to Solona. "Are you nervous?"

"No, I am not. I am not able to feel nervous," she returned. "You are."

"I am what?" Alistair frowned slightly.

"You are nervous. I read it from your body language," she explained. Her voice, though devoid of emotion, was smooth as silk. It had a startling effect on him. He felt the tension draining from him.

"You'd be nervous too if you knew what I knew," he said dryly.

She craned her neck to look up at him. "No, I wouldn't."

Duncan arrived then, and the big secret was revealed. It was possible that the recruits would not survive the Joining ritual. Jory was terrified. Daveth seemed resolute in his decision to become a Warden, which actually surprised Alistair. Solona was…a blank slate, as always. Alistair spoke the words, and the ritual began. Daveth was first to drink from the chalice. The young rogue screamed, grasping at his throat. He fell to the ground and lay motionless. Duncan glanced up at Alistair and shook his head. Alistair turned his gaze on Solona to gauge her reaction. She looked just as she had before Daveth met his demise. Blank. Alistair's attention snapped to Jory when he realized that the knight had drawn his weapon. _The fool! _Duncan had to put him down. Blood pooled beneath Jory's corpse, his eyes still wide with astonishment in his death. Alistair looked away. _No one will survive the ritual, _he thought morosely.

Duncan approached Solona, chalice in hand. Alistair wondered why the Commander of the Ferelden Wardens was even bothering with this…charade. A Tranquil would certainly not be able to withstand the taint.

Solona brought the chalice to her lips. She drank her fill. Alistair waited for her inevitable death. The woman winced, her hand clutched to her forehead. Her breathing became laboured. Her eyes, which had been tightly shut until then, suddenly shot open. Alistair gasped. He had expected to see the familiar milky white that indicated the taint coursed through the woman's veins. Instead, her eyes were onyx. Even Duncan seemed taken aback. What did it mean? Inky pools stared at seemingly nothing. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, yet she did not fall to the ground. Duncan approached her cautiously.

"Solona?" he inquired softly. The woman's dead gaze pinned Duncan in place.

"_What manner of beast is this_?" she rasped. Her voice was low, guttural. Nothing like it had been before. "_What have you sent me Warden? A trick? My undoing? She seeks to steal a part of me!_" Solona's teeth were clenched together. Layers of voices had joined together when she next spoke. "_Fine, take it if you must! But know that this world will soon be mine to command._" All at once, Solona fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Alistair felt a slight trickling on both sides of his neck. He reached up with one hand. He glanced down at his fingers. They were covered in blood. It took him a moment to identify the source of the blood. It came from his ears. Alistair glanced at Duncan and saw that his ears bled as well.

Duncan knelt over Solona's unmoving body. "Is she dead?" Alistair asked.

He shook his head. "She lives." His expression was solemn. Alistair was almost too afraid to approach Solona's form. He mustered his courage and went over to the pair. Solona began to stir. Her eyes opened slowly. Alistair let out a sigh of relief when he saw that they were the same obsidian hue that they'd been upon their first meeting.

"It is done," Duncan intoned. "Welcome." They helped her to her feet. "How do you feel?" Duncan asked.

"I am fine," she replied.

_No surprise there,_ Alistair thought wryly. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Did you have dreams? I had dreams after my Joining."

"I am Tranquil," Solona said. "We are cut off from the Fade. We do not dream."

Alistair frowned. He saw it again. The flicker behind her eyes. "Oh. Well, I suppose that's fortunate it its own way," he said lamely.

Solona glanced up at him, her gaze revealing nothing. "That is the problem. Just now. I _did_ dream. What does that mean?"

For once, Alistair was at a loss for words. He looked to Duncan for an answer. The senior Warden had none.


	2. The Towering Inferno

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age and its characters. I own the pyjama pants that I'm currently wearing.

**A/N: **I'm delighted that people seem to be interested in this concept! I couldn't help but post the second chapter, so here it is! Many thanks to the reviewers and silent readers. *Hearts*

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_I hear them call_

_I cannot stay_

_The voice inviting me away_

_~Even Deeper - Nine Inch Nails~_

Her body felt strange. Following the Joining ritual she retraced her steps to the Warden camp. Duncan was to attend a meeting with the king to discuss the upcoming battle strategy. Solona would be left to her own devices. She knew without a doubt that a change had occurred within her, yet she was not afraid, she was not weary. She was not even particularly curious. She sought only a way of alleviating the strange sensation that seemed to course through her. Perhaps the substance she'd imbibed during the ritual had contained a poison? She dismissed the idea. She did not feel ill, she simply possessed a preternatural awareness of everything that went on around her. That was how she sensed the man racing behind her long before he caught up to her.

"Solona? Where are you going?" It was the Warden Alistair.

"I must return to the camp. There is something wrong with my body," she informed him.

Alistair swallowed audibly. "I-uh-don't see anything wrong with your body…" His cheeks turned pink. Solona recognized this emotion. Embarrassment.

"Why are you embarrassed?" she asked.

His face seemed to take on an even redder shade. "I-I'm not! I just thought you ought to know that your body is great—fine, I mean! Your body is fine!" He sighed. "Oh, Maker, this is not going as planned." He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "Why do you think there's something wrong with your body?"

Solona assessed him with a neutral gaze. Perhaps he had the answer she was looking for. "I am experiencing a heightened awareness. Such sensations were not present before the Joining ritual. I seek a cure."

Alistair's eyes dawned with realization. "Ohhhhhh. No, there's nothing wrong with you. That's the taint in your veins. It's a kind of side effect you could say. There are plenty of others, but I'm sure Duncan will inform you of them in due time, so don't worry."

"I am not worried."

He pinched the bridge of his nose in vexation. "If you're not worried, then why did you ask?"

"I asked because the sensations I was experiencing defied logic," she replied.

"So you were curious?" Alistair ventured.

"No."

"For the love of Andraste, woman! You make no sense!" Alistair cried exasperatedly.

"Do I not?" She tilted her head to one side.

"No! And you're driving me mad!" he huffed.

"I am sorry," she said in her calm, silky tone.

Alistair blinked. "Are you really? Sorry, I mean."

"No."

He threw his arms up in defeat. "Agh!" He turned his back on her and missed the faint twitch of her lips.

**~*O*~*O*~**

"You mean I won't be in the battle?" Alistair asked plaintively. He tugged at his hair and then smoothed it out. Why was he not surprised? Ever since he'd joined the Wardens he'd been kept away from any _real_ action. Certainly he was required to slay the odd darkspawn now and again, but an actual, full blown, balls to the wall battle? _Never_. He suspected it had something to do with his relation to the king. Sod it, he _knew _it was because he was Maric's bastard. It took all of his well-honed templar discipline to keep from throwing his shield across the camp. He cast a sidelong glance at Solona. "Do you have anything to say about this?"

She didn't turn to face him, she continued to watch Duncan. "No."

Duncan sighed. "Alistair, watch over Solona. Though the task will keep you out of the battle, there may be some stragglers. She has none of her previous talents, and I daresay she has little skill with a blade." His gaze shifted to the Tranquil woman. "Unless of course I'm mistaken, and you are in fact deadly with a sword."

"I am not."

"In that case, Alistair, make sure she stays behind your shield at all times. I would have her stay at the camp, but I fear the battle will surely spill this way," Duncan explained. "Once you light the beacon, stay there. Do _not _attempt to join the battle. Do you understand?"

Alistair nodded. "I understand…and Duncan—may the Maker watch over you."

Duncan's expression was unnervingly grim. "May he watch over us all."

The young Wardens turned away from the camp and made their way to the bridge leading to the Tower of Ishal. Alistair cursed under his breath when he saw the various catapults lining the bridge, each bearing the gift of flaming fodder. Soldiers let loose strings of curses and battle cries, demanding that the enemies be pushed back. To Alistair's growing horror, he realized the bridge was subject to its own blend of attack. Boulders collided with the weakening stone of the bridge, leaving gaping holes in their wake. Alistair turned to Solona, who merely watched the violence unfolding before her. There was no way she'd be able to make it across in one piece. Unless…

"Hold on to me, and for Andraste's sake don't let go!" He bellowed at her before kneeling down and lifting her over his shoulder. She didn't protest, but she did grip his sides tightly. Under ordinary circumstances Alistair would have taken a moment to admire her delightfully round and thick rump, which was positioned a fraction of an inch from his face. These were far from ordinary circumstances, however, and Alistair had always tried to pride himself as being a gentleman. _Riiiight_. He loped across the bridge, dodging incoming boulders. For her part, Solona warned him if any of the boulders were at their heels, threatening to knock him off balance. After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the other side of the bridge. Their victory was short lived, unfortunately. Two men raced toward them, faces drawn with horror.

"You," exclaimed one of them. "You're Grey Wardens aren't you?"

Alistair carefully set Solona on the ground. "Yes, we are. What's the problem."

The second man's eyes darted about frantically. "Oh thank the Maker! The tower, it's been taken!"

"What are you talking about man? Taken how?" Alistair was growing increasingly impatient.

"By the darkspawn…please you have to help us!" one of the guards cried.

Alistair shook his head in disbelief. Darkspawn? Here? How was he meant to protect Solona if they were outnumbered by the tainted creatures. He glanced at his fellow Warden, whose gaze was held by the carnage that lay ahead. "Solona? I need you to stay by my side at _all times_. Do you hear me?"

She turned to him and he was briefly envious of her. She felt none of his fear. "I will stay by your side, Warden Alistair."

He ignored the tug in his chest at her comment and grabbed hold of her hand with his shield arm. "Let's do this."

The pair of guards raced ahead of them and engaged the darkspawn in combat. Alistair flinched as a genlock cleaved a dagger into one of the guard's sides. The guard recovered, however, and swung his greatsword, lopping the beast's head off with one powerful blow. Two hurlocks approached the Wardens, and Alistair released Solona's hand to bash his shield into the nearest monster. It was momentarily stunned, and Alistair took the opportunity to lash out with his sword, catching the second hurlock in its abdomen. He hacked and slashed at both creatures, sweat and darkspawn blood coating his cheeks. He bested them in the end, and turned to ensure his charge was safe. To his complete horror, she was not.

A hurlock alpha was towering above her, and it laughed at her mockingly. She simply stared up at it. Alistair moved toward her, for they'd been separated during his fight with the two hurlocks. The alpha loped its axe above its head, ready to bring it down upon her. _Maker, oh holy Maker I'm not going to get there in time! _He thought futilely.

The alpha froze, its laughter ceased. It took a step away from Solona, who continued to watch the creature unflinchingly. The alpha lowered its axe and went down on one knee, as though proposing marriage to the Tranquil mage. It held out the axe to her. She placed a hand on the darkspawn's forehead, and it dropped to the ground. Alistair was finally by her side, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "What in the name of the Maker was _that_?" he all but shouted.

Solona gazed up at him. "I do not know. It asked me to touch it. I did so, and it died."

Alistair was in an absolute daze. All he could think to do was continue their quest for the beacon. He grasped Solona's arm. "Let's just get to the top of the tower. The king is counting on us." He looked around for the two guards, but failed to spot them. He hated having to leave them behind, but he had no choice. He led Solona up the tower steps and through the door. He flinched. The darkspawn were everywhere, and they were itching for a fight. Alistair, still maintaining his grasp on Solona's arm, rushed forward. He held his sword high above his head, waiting for the first onslaught.

It never came.

The darkspawn were too busy watching Solona with an eerie reverence. They parted before the pair of them, allowing them to pass by. "This is the strangest thing I've ever seen…" he muttered under his breath.

"They wish for me to release them," Solona said suddenly.

Alistair jumped at the sound of her voice. "Release them?"

She nodded by way of reply. He shrugged a shoulder and they continued their ascent. They'd almost reached the top of the tower. All that stood between them and the beacon was a door. "Wait here," Alistair ordered. "I'll check it out and let you know if the coast is clear."

"As you wish."

He pushed through the door and came face to face with an enormous ogre. "Oh sod," he cursed. The ogre let out an ear-piercing roar and charged toward him, pinning him to the wall. Alistair grunted with pain. Luckily, his shield took the brunt of the attack. He righted himself as best he could and launched himself at the ogre. He slammed his shield into the ogre repeatedly, struggling to stun the cursed wretch. But the bloody beast was unstoppable! He jammed his sword into the ogre's side, which only resulted in making it even angrier. Before Alistair knew what hit him, he'd been grabbed by the waist. The ogre's claws dug into him, crushing his ribs. Alistair's vision was beginning to blur. Then a familiar voice rang out through the chamber. _Voices, to be exact…_

"_Put him down,_" came the deafening roar. Alistair felt the ogre's grip loosen, and the beast placed him gingerly on the floor. "_Step aside, now._" He knew without a doubt that his ears had begun to bleed. He glanced up at Solona, and it was just as he'd feared. Her eyes were flat and black. They were death incarnate. And they were trained on him. A wicked smile curled on Solona's lips. "_Do I frighten you, mortal?_" She knelt in front of him, and he felt his body tremble violently. His 'Warden senses' were screaming. She held up a hand, her palm inches from his cheek. "_Would you like me to show you? Would you like to see a world ravaged by an Old God?_" She seemed to contemplate this before flicking her wrist away from him, her palm resting instead on the ogre. It fell to the ground instantly. She held his gaze with her hard, onyx eyes. "_Be ever vigilant, Warden. The road ahead is fraught with pain and suffering._" She glanced over her shoulder. "_More of my minions approach. Remember what I said._" Solona's eyes cleared, the inky depths seemed to drain like a viscous liquid, leaving obsidian irises behind. She stared down at him.

"What are you?" Alistair asked, his voice a mixture of awe and terror.

"I am Solona Amell," she replied. She walked over to the beacon and lit the signal fire.

Alistair shook his head. "No, I know your name. I mean…Maker, woman! What _are _you?"

The door slammed open and a legion of darkspawn piled into the chamber. They ignored Solona and descended upon him. Before darkness took over, he could have sworn he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes when she replied.

"I do not know."


	3. Swamp Thing

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age and its characters. I own this fantastic highlighter on my desk. Ooooh pretty.

**A/N: **Thank you to all of my reviewers! You are all so kind, and I love receiving the feedback. And of course I love my silent readers as well. XOXO

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_The spiders all in tune_

_The evening of the moon_

_Dreams are made winding through my head_

_~Spiders – System Of A Down~_

The wind was gliding through her hair. Talons were wrapped around her waist, carrying her and the Warden Alistair from the Tower of Ishal. She didn't question why an enormous bird would endeavour to save their lives. She simply accepted it as fact. She glanced over at Alistair. He was grievously injured, and currently unconscious. The old Solona would have immediately tried to heal him. The old Solona would have been horrified by his broken, bloodied form.

The new Solona was incapable of either feat.

-_My my, what __**have **__I stumbled across? Two Grey Wardens, and one of them a Tranquil. How very curious._-

The voice echoed through Solona's head. Should she answer? She was unused to hearing voices in her head. Perhaps she was going insane.

-_No, you are quite sane, girl. I am addressing you through your mind because I am incapable of speaking to you in this form._-

"You are the bird?" Solona asked.

-_Yes. And I see that you are more than a mere Tranquil._-

"Why did you save us?"

-_You are the last surviving Wardens in all of Ferelden. It is your duty to defeat the Blight. _-

"I see," Solona replied. Her gaze shifted back to Alistair. She saw the blood oozing from several wounds on his side. Arrows protruded from his arms and legs. "Will he live?"

-_I am a very powerful healer, young woman. I have no doubt that he will live. _- The voice took on an amused tone. –_Why do you ask? Do you care?_-

Solona's brow furrowed. "I…do not know."

The bird did not speak to her for the rest of their flight. Solona peered down at the battlefield below. Corpses littered the muddied soil. There were a few darkspawn bodies amongst the dead, but for the most part, the casualties of the battle were human. They soared past the rough terrain of Ostagar and were soon gliding above the valleys of the Korcari Wilds. The old Solona had read about the Wilds in one of her many books. The old Solona would have marvelled at its savage beauty. Soon the bird was making its descent, hovering above a dilapidated hut. Solona saw a young raven haired woman standing just outside the doorway, her arms folded about her chest. The bird deposited Alistair and herself on the ground as gently as possible.

"So good of you to return, Mother. I was beginning to worry," the young woman said tartly. She glanced at Solona and Alistair, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I see you brought guests. I recognize the dimwit, but who is the girl?"

Solona stood and brushed the dirt from her robes. "I am Solona Amell."

"She is also a Grey Warden, Morrigan. She comes from the Circle of Magi. She's one of the Tranquil. Solona, this is my daughter, Morrigan."

Solona recognized the voice, as she'd been carrying on a conversation with it in her head. When she turned, she fully expected to see the giant bird. Instead, she faced a rather elderly woman. "You are no longer a bird."

The old woman chuckled. "No, I am not. I simply took that shape so that I might save you from the tower. This is my…usual appearance."

"I see," Solona replied.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Mother, would you kindly enlighten us as to _why _you saw fit to bring the Wardens _here_? Surely there are other places they could be?"

"Do not be foolish, girl," the old woman admonished. "They are in obvious need of healing. I am clearly the only one qualified to do so." She knelt down, looping her arms through Alistair's. She cast an irritated glance at Morrigan. "Well, don't just stand there, girl. Help me get him inside." Morrigan let out a huff and did as she was told, grasping Alistair's ankles. Together, they carried him into the hut. A few minutes later, Morrigan reappeared, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She circled Solona, her gaze taking in the Tranquil's appearance.

"You have no magical abilities?" Morrigan asked finally.

"No, I do not."

"And you do not feel anything? No emotion at all?"

Solona hesitated before answering. "I am unsure if what I experience is a complete lack of emotion. In the beginning, I was free of any feelings. My mind was clear. Now I find myself having strange reactions, and I have no inkling as to why these reactions are occurring."

"Do these reactions frighten you?" Morrigan asked.

"No, they are simply odd, and they are fleeting," Solona replied.

Morrigan frowned. "'Tis barbaric, what they did to you. I find myself repulsed. Were I you, I would seek vengeance."

"I am neither repulsed, nor vengeful. I simply am."

The witch seemed to ponder this for several moments. "You certainly are an oddity. I find you most fascinating. Regardless, Mother did send me out here for a reason." She placed her hands on either sides of Solona's cheeks and whispered softly. "_Sleep…_"

**~*O*~*O*~**

_The howls, the murmuring, the screeching. The dragon gazed down at me, eyes filled with fury. The horde surrounding it looked first to the dragon, then to me. They were uncertain of whom to pledge allegiance to. They could sense that I was pure, where the dragon had been tainted. My song was much lovelier than the one the dragon sang. Mine was rich with dulcet tones, rendering the horde silent. The dragon's song made them taut with anger. It knew that it was losing control, and lashed out with its tail, sweeping me aside. My breath was expelled from my lungs._

_I hated this mortal form. The heat was unbearable here in the Deeps. I wanted to scratch the flesh from my bones, to free myself from such confinement. But now was not the time. I was being sucked away from the Deeps, back to the other side of the Veil. All I could do was wait for the inevitable confrontation, and hope for some mild entertainment along the way._

**~*O*~*O*~**

Alistair brushed his fingers through his perfectly arranged hair. He gazed out at the murky depths of the swamp, his body battling with both exhaustion and restlessness. The old woman had told him of the king's defeat, and that the soldiers were either fatally wounded or dead. The news that Duncan was among the casualties had been like a blow to the chest. Loghain had revealed himself to be a traitor. The pain gripped his heart like a vise. He was without purpose, alone in a world on the brink of destruction.

"Chin up, lad. Your friend still lives," the old woman chided.

Alistair didn't bother to face the woman who'd saved him. "She's hardly my friend. She's just some…thing that survived the attack. She may be a Grey Warden, but she may also be a bloody monster." He shuddered at the mere thought of how Solona had morphed from harmless Tranquil to the horrifying multi-voiced creature.

"What do you mean, a monster?"

Alistair flinched, realizing far too late that he'd revealed too much. "Nothing, forget it."

"Hm. Perhaps she has been displaying strange behaviour? A dual nature of sorts?" the old woman ventured.

"Maybe," Alistair conceded.

The old woman gave a self-satisfied smile. "I thought as much. For someone whose Order possesses such loyalty to its brethren, I'm surprised you are so willing to cast her aside at the first sign of…odd behaviour."

"I didn't agree to her joining the Wardens in the first place! She's more of a liability than anything. She's Tranquil, she can't use magic, she can't feel, she's nothing but a husk!" Alistair's sorrow had morphed into rage. He needed something…someone to lash out at. "If anything I should take her back to the Circle and let them deal with her."

"If you wish me to return to the Tower, I will," came Solona's soft, mellow voice.

Alistair whipped around and came face to face with the Tranquil woman. His face flamed with shame at what he'd said about her. "I—no—I shouldn't have said that…I said it out of anger-"

"You are angry with me," she stated.

"No, of course I'm not angry with you. I'm just upset! They're all dead, Solona! Duncan, the king, all of the Wardens…there's just the two of us, and there's a Blight looming…I just don't know-"

The old woman cleared her throat. "Before the arrival of our young Tranquil friend, I was just about to inform you of a little known secret the Circle has regarding their Rite of Tranquility."

"What are you talking about?" Alistair demanded. "And just who are you anyway? You never told us your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk refer to me as Flemeth. I suppose that will do," she replied.

"Flemeth?" Alistair repeated incredulously. "As in _the _Flemeth, from the legends? Daveth was right! You are the Witch of the Wilds!"

"And what does that mean?" Flemeth scoffed. "I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well. I also possess a great deal of knowledge, which I was about to impart upon you before you so rudely interrupted."

"Sorry," Alistair murmured sheepishly.

"As I was saying, the Rite of Tranquility is performed on mages that are deemed dangerous, susceptible to demonic possession, or for those who do not wish to undergo the Circle's Harrowing. The Rite involves magic, where the mage is branded with lyrium, effectively cutting off their connection to the Fade. They lose their magical abilities, as well as their emotions."

Alistair sighed. "Yes, I know all this. I trained to be a Templar and I saw the Rite performed."

"Did you?" Flemeth gave Alistair a cat-like grin. "Did they also tell you that the Rite must be performed on the eve of every new moon?"

Alistair's brows knit together. "What are you talking about?"

Flemeth continued. "The effects of the brand are temporary, and therefore must be reinforced. Surely you did not believe that a single brand of lyrium could last forever?"

"I hadn't really given it much thought," Alistair confessed. "But wouldn't people notice if the same Tranquils were undergoing the Rite every month?"

Flemeth chuckled. "So naïve…there are far more Templars than Tranquils. The Templars that helped to oversee one mage's Rite would not be present at their next Rite…This pattern could go on for a full year before any repetition would cause the same Templar to see a repeat performance of the Rite on any mage, and by then I doubt that the Templar would even remember the original Rite given their…mental faculties."

Alistair inhaled sharply. "You mean to say that they're so doped up on lyrium they can't tell the difference between one Tranquil and another."

"Precisely," Flemeth replied.

"So does that mean that eventually Solona will get her abilities back?" Alistair asked.

Flemeth nodded. "Without having the lyrium brand reinforced, she will slowly regain her powers, as well as her emotions."

For the first time since he'd awoken, Alistair was actually happy. "That's wonderful news! When will she recover fully?"

"Hard to say, really. A year, perhaps two. Certainly no longer than five."

"That long?" Alistair was aghast. "We don't have that kind of time. We need to deal with the Blight _now_."

"Then I suggest you get started," Flemeth advised.

He shook his head bewilderedly. "I don't know _how_ to stop a Blight, usually the Wardens are backed by an army! We have but two people."

"The ancient treaties," Solona piped up.

Alistair's eyes widened. "Yes of course! We can demand the support of the elves, the dwarves, the mages…they're all required to unite in times of a Blight. Solona, you're a genius!"

Flemeth cackled. "It would appear that having no emotions allows her to keep her head on straight, unlike some people."

Alistair ignored the old witch. "We should also try and travel to Redcliffe. Arl Eamon would never put up with Loghain's actions. He could be a great help to us."

"Very well," Solona said.

Alistair was suddenly overcome with manic energy. "So can we do this? Gather an army and try to defeat the archdemon?"

Solona looked out toward the swamp surrounding the small hut. "I do not know," she replied.

"I may have one other thing I can offer you as aid in your quest," Flemeth chipped in. Her gaze shifted to the wooden door of the hut as Morrigan walked through it.

"The stew is ready, Mother. Will we be having two guests for the evening, or none?" Morrigan queried.

Flemeth stifled a smile before announcing her parting gift to the Wardens.


	4. Pretty As A Painting

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age and its characters. I own this well used Public Library card.

**A/N: **Thank you to all those who reviewed and offered suggestions. And of course, thanks to the silent readers as well. This is a longer chapter than the others, so hopefully I won't lose your attention half-way through!

* * *

_All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground _  
_And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land _  
_Trying to find, trying to find where I've been_

_~Kashmir - Led Zeppelin~_

The strange trio walked single file toward Lothering. Morrigan had suggested that they stop over in the small village for some much needed provisions. Alistair agreed that it would be a good idea, and Solona saw no reason to counter either one of them. The plan was perfectly logical. They hadn't been travelling for very long when Solona suddenly halted in place. She took in her surroundings, and promptly began gathering wood. Alistair and Morrigan didn't notice her lagging behind until they were almost out of her line of sight. Alistair looked over his shoulder and frowned. He jogged back to his fellow Warden.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I am hungry," she responded while continuing to gather wood.

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "And you really think _now_ is a good time to stop for a meal? Can't you just wait until we get to Lothering?"

"Why would I wait to eat? I am hungry now, and I have food. All I need is the means to cook it. I am rectifying this issue as we speak." She began to form a pile with the wood. She didn't understand why Alistair was questioning her actions. To ignore a bodily function was absurd. She lifted her robes and extracted the dagger that she kept strapped to her thigh. She used it to peel several shavings from a branch for kindling and made her first attempt at starting a fire. She was failing miserably.

"She is quite similar to a child," Morrigan scoffed from behind Alistair. "'Tis a wonder she has not perished due to her blatant disregard for her own self-preservation."

Alistair scowled at the witch. "Leave her be, she's just not used to the outdoors, and roughing it…and…oh sod it, can't you just use your magic to help?" He pointed toward Solona's pathetic attempts at creating a campfire.

Morrigan sighed exasperatedly and made a slight motion with her hand. A small fireball hit the pile of wood Solona had erected and ignited it. "If it means we spend less time laying about…"

"Your generosity knows no bounds," Alistair said dryly. He turned his attention back to Solona. "So…what are we eating, my lady?"

"Roasted hare," the Tranquil replied. She dug around in the pouch she kept at her hip and extracted several herbs.

Alistair was clearly amused by her response. "Doesn't one need an actual hare in order to prepare roasted hare?" He paused. "Hey! I'm a poet and I don't know it!"

Morrigan let out a tortured moan. "Just when I think he cannot be any dimmer…"

Solona ignored Morrigan. "The hound has the hare." She dug around in her pack and found her mortar and pestle. She set her herbs into the mortar and ground them together with expert skill.

"The hound? What hound?" Alistair tilted his head to one side.

"The one that is following us."

"I don't see any-" his words were cut off when a fierce looking mabari appeared from some nearby trees. It had a rather large hare clenched in its jaws. "Oh." The mabari padded over to Alistair and deposited the hare at his feet. Alistair gazed down at the war dog, a curious expression on his face. "Could this be the mabari I helped cure in Ostagar?" he wondered out loud. He knelt down and extended his hand to the dog, allowing the animal to sniff at him. The mabari licked Alistair's hand and let out a playful bark. "It must be the same one! I can't believe he survived! The kennel master had mentioned something about having him imprinted on me…Oh Maker, this is truly unbelievable." Alistair was as giddy as a little boy on Saturnalia.

"Does that mean we will be followed around by this mangy beast? Wonderful." Morrigan groaned.

"He's not mangy!" Alistair replied in a babyish tone. He scratched behind the dog's ears affectionately. "What should we call him?"

"If he is anything like his owner, then perhaps we should name him 'Moron'," Morrigan quipped.

"Or we could name him after you, though I doubt he'd respond well to 'Bitch Witch'," Alistair retorted.

"Mac."

Alistair and Morrigan's attention snapped to Solona. "Huh?" Alistair queried.

"Mac would suit him well, I think," Solona said. She held out a hand toward Alistair. "Pass me the hare, I need to skin it." Alistair handed it over wordlessly, and she deftly skinned the hare with her small dagger.

"What made you think of that name?" Alistair asked.

Solona gutted the hare, beheaded it and cleaned it with ease. She showed no signs of being squeamish. She rubbed the herbs she'd grated into the skin and placed the prepared animal on a makeshift spit. She held it over the fire to roast. "I do not know," she finally replied. "It was a passing thought. If you do not like the name, choose another."

"No, I think I rather like it. Mac. Do you like it?" he asked the dog. The dog barked happily. "Mac it is then."

The air was soon filled with the scent of Solona's cooking. Alistair was practically drooling on himself, and he gazed at her in wonder. "I didn't know you could cook!"

"You do not know me at all," Solona said, her tone without inflection of any kind. Were anyone else to speak the words, they would have sounded accusing, or perhaps plaintive. From Solona, however, it was a mere statement of fact. Alistair wasn't entirely sure how to respond. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Morrigan preparing health poultices. She was out of earshot, so he felt he could speak freely with Solona.

"Yes…well, we should remedy that," he suggested.

Solona glanced up at him, holding him in place with her obsidian gaze. "Why?"

"Well, because I find myself wanting to know more about you. I'm…curious. Like, for example…why did they make you a Tranquil?"

Morrigan suddenly appeared behind Alistair. He nearly squawked when she spoke. "Yes, I find myself wondering the same."

Solona turned her attention back to the hare. "I see no point in discussing it, but I will oblige. A mage whom I considered to be a friend was worried that he would be made Tranquil, as he had yet to undergo his Harrowing. His suspicions were confirmed by an initiate that he was intimate with. She had seen proof on the Knight-Commander's desk that he would undergo the Rite of Tranquility. He was suspected of being a blood mage. I asked him if this was true, and he denied it. He asked for my help. He wished to break into the Circle's repository and destroy his phylactery."

"What is this phylactery?" Morrigan interrupted.

"When a mage is brought to the Tower, a sample of their blood is taken and stored. Should the mage turn apostate, the blood is used to track the mage," Solona answered.

Morrigan snorted derisively. "Chantry fools. 'Tis no wonder your friend wished to escape."

Solona continued. "We broke into the repository, and were able to destroy Jowan, the mage's, phylactery. When we emerged from the repository, the Knight-Commander, the First Enchanter and several Templars were awaiting us. They threatened to send the initiate to Aeonar, the mage's prison. That was when Jowan revealed himself to be a blood mage. He cast a spell that debilitated everyone but the initiate and myself. He begged her to go with him. She spurned him. He ran off. I was charged with assisting in the escape of a blood mage. That was when Duncan conscripted me. The Knight-Commander was not pleased. He performed the Rite of Tranquility despite the fact that I had been conscripted." Solona removed the hare from the fire and began cutting away several pieces. She handed equal portions to both Alistair and Morrigan. They ate in silence.

"Someone ought to set that Tower ablaze," Morrigan said after a time. "'Tis naught but a prettied up prison. Those who seek to free themselves are effectively put down."

Alistair sighed. "It's not that simple…it also protects the mages. Many look on them with fear. Some would even go so far as to kill them for possessing magic. The Tower is a haven for them."

"Such fear would not exist were it not for the Chantry," Morrigan countered. "The very tyrants that created that monstrous tower in the first place."

"You have a point, much as I hate to admit it," Alistair conceded. He turned to Solona. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what they did to you. You were only trying to help a friend. That's commendable." He smiled at her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Solona's eyes flickered. "It was foolish." She stood and kicked dirt onto the campfire. "We should leave now if we are to reach Lothering before nightfall."

They continued to the village, Morrigan in the lead, Solona not far behind her and Alistair bringing up the rear. In the burgeoning silence, he was once again losing himself in his thoughts of Duncan and his other fallen comrades.

"Ahh, wake up boys! More travelers! And it looks like the pretty one is the leader."

Solona stared at the barbaric looking men that advanced on them. She looked to Alistair for an explanation.

"Highwaymen," Alistair muttered under his breath. "Most likely preying on refugees seeking shelter from the darkspawn."

"They are fools to get in our way, I say we teach them a lesson," Morrigan chipped in.

The leader of the pack made a reproachful sound. "Is that any way to speak to keepers of the Imperial Highway? A simple ten silvers will get you across."

"No," Solona replied. "The tone and timbre of your voice indicate that you are lying. We refuse to pay you any money."

"Well, I can't say I'm pleased to hear that," the harsh looking man said. He ordered his men to attack. Alistair immediately grabbed hold of Solona and whipped her behind him. He struck out with his sword and shield, catching two bandits at once and sending them to the ground. Morrigan also leapt into action. She cast a Mind Blast spell, stunning all those surrounding her. She followed up with a potent Cone of Cold, and Alistair began the process of shattering their enemies. It was a quick battle, and soon the only one left standing was the leader. He held up his hands in defeat.

"Alright, alright I surrender! We were just trying to get by!" he pleaded.

Alistair scoffed. "Get by? You're criminals!"

Morrigan elbowed the ex-templar in the side to silence him. "Where is the money you stole from those before us?"

"It's right here! Just over a hundred silvers." The bandit handed the coins over.

"You have my thanks," Morrigan smirked before casting one final spell – Drain Life. The leader fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.

"Was that really necessary?" Alistair demanded.

Morrigan shrugged a shoulder. "'Tis only survival of the fittest. Besides, we now have a fair bit of coin to purchase supplies."

"You are by far the coldest person I've ever met," Alistair murmured. He sheathed his sword and wandered to the village entrance. "Ah, there it is, Lothering. Pretty as a painting."

"Finally decided to join us, have you? Decided that falling on your blade in grief was too much effort?" Morrigan mocked from behind him.

"Is it so hard for you to understand my being upset about losing someone I care about? Just what would you do if your mother died?" Alistair snapped.

"Before or after I stopped laughing?"

Alistair shuddered. "Right, very creepy, forget I asked."

Solona, who was standing next to Alistair, spun on her heel to face Morrigan. Her eyes narrowed at the witch. "Leave him be, Morrigan."

"How can I? When he-wait, why do you care?" the apostate demanded.

Alistair was equally confused. Had Solona just reacted to Morrigan's taunting in anger? Was she actually sticking up for him? He tried not to read too much into her comment to the swamp witch, but couldn't help but feel his heart swell just the tiniest bit.

The Tranquil's brow furrowed, then her expression of anger was replaced by that of cool impassivity. "I—I do not. It is a matter of maintaining a high morale. If Alistair grows even more upset, it may affect his ability to fight. Your antagonistic nature does nothing to help our situation."

Morrigan's lips curled into a sneer. "'Tis as good an explanation as any. Though whether or not it is the truth remains to be seen."

Solona chose not to reply and instead wandered ahead into the heart of Lothering. Several refugees sat in small groups, in sore need of shelter and food. She saw some villagers bickering, and others crying. The air was thick with desperation, and Solona was unsure if they would find any supplies in this ramshackle town.

"So, I was thinking…have you decided on a course of action?" Alistair had trotted up beside her.

Solona cast a glance in his direction. "Is that not your duty? You are the senior Warden, are you not?"

Alistair cleared his throat. "Right, about that…I'm not too fond of the whole _leading_ thing."

"You believe that I am more qualified? That is illogical. I am the least qualified to lead, Alistair. I may offer suggestions, but ultimately it is in your hands to execute any decisions," Solona said.

He scratched the back of his neck. "…Alright…what do you suggest?"

"The treaties seem most important. We should seek out those that have promised us aid in a Blight."

"I agree," Alistair concurred. "Have you looked at them?" Solona shook her head. "The treaties are from the three main groups in Ferelden – the dwarves of Orzammar, the Dalish elves and the Circle of Magi. I also think Arl Eamon is our best bet to gain the support of the nobility. In fact, we may even want to start there."

"If that is what you think, then we will seek out this Arl Eamon. Where is he located?" Solona asked.

Alistair extracted a map from his pack. He pointed to a moderately sized town to the south-west. "That's Redcliffe, Arl Eamon's arling," he pointed to a location to the north, in the Frostback Mountains. "That's where Orzammar is, and of course, you know where the Circle Tower is." He then indicated a large forest to the east. "The Dalish were last spotted in the Brecilian Forest, though they're a nomadic bunch and could turn up anywhere."

Solona nodded. "Yes. We can double back through the Hinterlands and make our way to this Redcliffe…then we may either venture to Kinloch Hold or Orzammar. Orzammar would be most logical, as we could secure the help of the mages on our way to the Brecilian Forest. What say you?"

"Sounds good to me," he said, mildly surprised at her tactical abilities. "We should probably look for a shop, or an inn…anywhere that would have the supplies we need."

"Morrigan, you have been here before. Do you have any suggestions?"

Morrigan shrugged a shoulder. "In its current state, 'tis hard to say what remains. There is a tavern that doubles as an inn. We may find supplies there. 'Tis called Dane's Refuge."

The four of them wandered to the inn that Morrigan had mentioned. When they entered, they knew right away that something was amiss.

"Well, look what we have here boys. Seems like we've finally run into a bit of luck," proclaimed a brutish looking soldier.

One of the soldier's companions joined his side. "Didn't we ask the villagers about a woman by this very description, and they said they hadn't seen anything?"

"Uh oh. Loghain's men…this can't be good," Alistair murmured under his breath.

"Looks like we were lied to," the leader of the pack announced.

Solona counted the men. She knew that they were outnumbered, but she had seen Alistair and Morrigan fight, and knew they were both capable of holding their own. The dog would no doubt be an asset as well. She slowly began to slink behind Alistair and Morrigan, knowing that she would only get in their way if a fight broke out. Solona glanced up when a red-headed Sister spoke up.

"Gentlemen, please. Surely we can resolve this without the use of violence."

The leader scoffed. "These are known traitors to the king and Ferelden. Unless you step aside, you'll be counted as one of them, Sister."

Morrigan's eerie golden eyes narrowed. "It would seem these simpletons are looking for a fight. I do not know about the rest of you, but I find myself happy to oblige."

"Right, let's get this over with," grunted one of Loghain's soldiers. The men leapt forward, and chaos erupted in Dane's. Steel clashed against steel, and the thick fog of magic buzzed in the air. Solona watched from a corner as Mac, Alistair's mabari, leapt onto an attacker, ripping a chunk of flesh from the man's throat. The Chantry Sister nimbly snuck behind another soldier, slicing at his hamstring. Alistair let loose one of his war cries and bashed his shield into the leader of the group several times. The tip of Morrigan's staff erupted with flame, scorching anyone nearby. It wasn't long before Loghain's men admitted defeat.

"That's enough!" Cried the leader.

The Chantry Sister smiled widely. "Good, now we can stop all this fighting."

"Take a message back to Loghain," Alistair snarled. "Tell him the Grey Wardens know what really happened."

"Y-yes, whatever you say!" stammered the defeated soldier. He and his whipped comrades fled the inn.

The redhead approached Alistair, her serene smile still in place. "I am sorry to have jumped in, but I could not just sit by and not get involved."

"Thanks for that, though I wonder where a Sister learned to fight like that," Alistair remarked.

The redhead chuckled. "I was not born in the cloister. The skills I possess I learned before joining the Chantry. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Leliana. I overheard those men saying that you are Grey Wardens, which is why I'm coming with you."

"Why do you wish to join us?" Solona asked while taking a step forward.

Leliana's eyes widened slightly, as though she hadn't noticed Solona's presence and was surprised by her sudden appearance. Her cheeks also flushed slightly. Solona tilted her head at the blush. It was similar to how Alistair reacted to her at times. "The Maker told me to," she finally replied.

"More crazy? I thought we were full up," Alistair mumbled. Solona held up a hand to silence him.

"Explain yourself," she said to Leliana.

Leliana's shoulders sagged. "I-I know how it sounds…But I had a dream…" She then went on to explain her vision.

Solona turned to Alistair. "She is skilled in battle. We require help. I suggest we let her join us."

"Whatever you say, boss," Alistair responded.

Morrigan sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"

Leliana squealed with delight and pulled Solona into a tight embrace. "Thank you! You won't regret it!" Solona allowed herself to be hugged, though she hung limply in the woman's arms. Leliana pulled away, her expression one of embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just get excited very easily. I'm sorry if I offended you by touching you in such a familiar fashion."

"I am not offended."

"Oh, then you don't like hugs?" Leliana ventured.

Solona shook her head. "I neither like nor dislike them," she said evenly.

Leliana's eyebrows shot upward. She shot a glance at Alistair. "I don't understand…"

"It's a long story, we'll explain later. For now, we need to stock up on supplies," the ex-templar replied.

**~*O*~*O*~**

Alistair was first to take watch that night. He found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. Their ever-expanding group had had a long day. After Leliana had joined them and they'd procured supplies from Dane's Refuge, Solona pointed out their need for coin. She was ever the voice of reason, Alistair thought with a smile. Leliana had suggested they check out the Chanter's Board and complete any tasks that had been posted. After soundly defeating some bothersome bandits, bears and retrieving a poor boy's mother's keepsake, they were a few coins richer and Alistair had quite a nice looking new sword. They had also encountered a qunari that had been imprisoned by the Chantry. Once she'd learned that qunari were renowned warriors, Solona announced that they would free him in exchange for his help. The Revered Mother hadn't been pleased, but eventually relented and released the prisoner into their custody. The qunari's name was Sten, and he pledged that he would follow them against the Blight. One more member added to their band of merry lunatics. And what day would be complete without a darkspawn attack? A small group of them were in the midst of accosting a pair of dwarven merchants when the Wardens and company had approached, and, just as before, they ceased all combat as soon as they saw Solona. Alistair was really getting creeped out by their reaction to her. She touched each of them in turn, and just as they had on previous occasions, fell dead immediately. If anyone else was put off by this odd display they didn't voice their discomfort. The dwarves were too busy singing their praises to notice anything was amiss. Perhaps everyone was too exhausted to ask questions. Alistair was thankful either way, because he didn't have any answers for them.

He was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice his fellow Warden thrashing about in her sleep. He frowned and moved toward her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Solona are you-" his body seemed to seize, and he was bombarded with a slew of visions and emotions. He saw charred bodies, rotting in piles atop scorched earth. The sky was crimson, and the air thick with the acrid stench of death. Darkspawn were everywhere, feasting upon the flesh of the dead. They cackled and preened at their victory over humanity. Separate from the images were the feelings. Fallen pride, rage, sorrow, vengeance…

Alistair was vaguely aware of a snarl and hiss as Solona suddenly jerked away from him. "_Unhand me, Warden!_"

He was back at the camp, safe by the fire. Well, not safe exactly. Solona was glaring up at him, her eyes once again the inky pools that terrified him. She glanced at the curve of his jaw and grinned at the blood that had trickled from his ear. "_It would seem that my voice does not agree with your delicate sensibilities. You will have to forgive me, it is not often I speak with mortals._" Her tongue darted out of her mouth and she licked her lips. Alistair felt a shiver run down his spine. "Is this better?" The…being sounded like Solona, only more animated. Alistair nodded dumbly. "Good. I would hate to have you bleed to death from your ears."

The Warden finally found his own voice. "What _are _you? Are you the archdemon?"

Her laughter rang through the camp. It was like the tinkling of bells. "No, I am not the _archdemon_."

"Then what?"

The corners of her lips lifted higher. "You may call me Eziel. My true name cannot be pronounced by your tongue."

"Alright…Eziel…why exactly are you-erm-inside of Solona?" Alistair thought he was handling the situation rather well, all things considered. His Warden senses were still screaming, but ever since Eziel had stopped speaking in that unholy voice, he'd calmed down considerably.

"I believe it happened during what you call the Joining. I became a part of her. She is my…host."

"So you're a parasite?" Alistair asked, horrified.

Eziel lifted her chin, onyx eyes flashing. "Certainly not. Our souls are entwined. We are one and we are two. We share a common goal," she tilted her head to one side and grinned at Alistair. "Well, we share a few goals actually."

"And what goals are those?"

Eziel's only response was a lift of her shoulder.

"Are you—are you hurting her?" Alistair's voice wavered slightly.

"Why? Do you care? Did you not refer to her as a 'thing'? A 'husk'? Now you're suddenly concerned for her safety?" Eziel asked in a mocking tone.

Alistair let loose a heavy sigh. "I was upset when I said that. I didn't mean it…I just heard that Duncan died and…I should have been with him in the battle."

"You were quite fond of him, weren't you?"

He nodded. "Yes…I was…I still am. But he's—he's with the Maker now." Alistair turned away, hiding the tears that had begun to well in his eyes.

"Your Duncan is somewhere special, to be sure. Beyond the Maker. He was a good man," Eziel said solemnly.

Alistair blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, 'beyond the Maker'? There isn't anything above _or _beyond the Maker. He's the Maker."

"Oh, sweeting. That is a discussion for another time, I think. You must simply trust in the fact that your Duncan is someplace more beautiful than the Maker could create, and that I am _not _in any way hurting the one you call Solona."

"And I should just believe you? For all I know you could be a demon that's just taken over Solona," Alistair retorted.

Eziel chuckled. "How does a demon take over one of the Tranquil? Besides, if she had become an abomination, why haven't you slain her?" She didn't give Alistair a chance to reply. As suddenly as she'd appeared, the creature returned to the depths of Solona's soul, leaving the Tranquil woman rubbing her eyes with her fists.

"Solona?"

"Yes? Is it my turn to keep watch?" Her voice had returned to its normal even tone, though it sounded thick with sleep.

Alistair gave her a wan smile. "No, just making sure you're alright. Go back to bed."

She nodded and sank back into her bedroll, her ginger hair fanning out against her pillow.

Alistair had a sudden urge to run his fingers through her silken tresses. He scowled at himself and tamped down on the emotion. It wouldn't do to start fancying a woman that could never return his affection.

It wouldn't do at all.


	5. Sugar and Spice

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age, I own a bottle of grape Crush.

**A/N: **Thanks so much for the reviews, those that fave'd/alerted, and the silent readers. *Heart*

* * *

_Deeper and deeper and deeper as I journey to_

_Live a life that seems to be_

_A lost reality I can never find_

_~Blind – Korn~_

He watched her from across the camp, watched as Leliana instructed her on the basic elements of firing a crossbow. The minstrel stood behind the Tranquil, directing her to keep her feet shoulder-width apart. She helped Solona take aim, and had her fire at the tree that stood twenty paces away. His fellow Grey Warden had finally managed to hit her mark. Leliana let out a whoop of joy.

The previous day, Solona had remarked that it would be wise for her to take up some sort of martial training in order to better defend during battle. Given her complete and utter inexperience with any sort of weapon, Alistair had suggested that a crossbow would be the easiest to learn in such a short time. Apparently, Solona was proving to be a quick study. He watched as Leliana made several animated gestures, and Solona simply nodded in reply. Alistair turned to Mac, his head tilted to one side.

"What do you think of this whole…Eziel business?" he asked. Mac gazed up at him, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "No, I don't trust her either. She seems a bit off. And I really don't like the fact that she takes over Solona's body." Mac issued a low growl, his pointy ears lying flat against his skull. "Exactly my thoughts," Alistair conceded. "And Maker, those visions when I touched her? What was that about? A possible outcome of the Blight? I sure hope not." A shudder ran the length of his spine. "If Ferelden winds up like that, I'd rather die, personally." His warhound whined softly and poked his muzzle into Alistair's hand, begging for a scratch. "Oh go on, you know I don't mean that." He scratched the dog affectionately. His gaze shifted back to Solona, and he watched as she once again took aim and loosed several bolts. Each shot struck true. For just the briefest instant, Alistair swore that he saw a flash of triumph in her eyes. "I only wish I'd known her before she was made Tranquil. I'll bet she was a passionate woman. She just looks the sort, you know?" He sighed wistfully. "Oh well…I suppose if Flemeth is right, and the Rite is only temporary, she may eventually snap out of it. Assuming we don't die first." Mac barked happily. "See? Now that's the spirit. Be a good boy and go get Solona. I want to talk to her for a minute." Mac let out one last authoritative woof before trotting off toward the Tranquil Warden. Alistair found himself quite amazed by just how intelligent his mabari was proving to be. Solona glanced down at Mac, and, with no words exchanged, was able to ascertain exactly what the dog wanted. She gave a nod of her head and followed him back to Alistair.

"You wanted to see me?"

Alistair nodded and gestured for her to take a seat next to him. "I was meaning to ask you this a few nights ago, but was unfortunately distracted. I only now just remembered." He drew in a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he would be any good at this sort of conversation. Duncan had been so calm in managing Alistair's first few months of joining the Wardens. He could only hope that he would be able to offer Solona a modicum of that comfort. "Have you been having any…nightmares lately?"

Solona shrugged her shoulders. "It is odd, these dreams that I've been having. Throughout the actual dream, I know that I am terrified. My heart races in my chest, I am gripped by fear. I see images that can only be described as…bestial. Yet when I awake, the terror is gone. The change is so abrupt I often ask myself if the dream even occurred. It is most…strange."

"Apparently the nightmares are worse during a Blight. Eventually, some Wardens are able to block them out entirely. But then they come back, and that's how a Warden knows 'his time has come'," Alistair explained.

Solona maintained her stoic expression. "What do you mean by 'his time has come'?"

"Ah, that's right, Duncan never got around to telling you that either. The taint? It's a death sentence. Grey Wardens live for thirty years or so before they eventually return to Orzammar and do battle with darkspawn in the Deep Roads until they perish."

"I see."

Alistair grinned at her widely. "Very cheery, am I right?" He saw an almost imperceptible twitch in her cheek. His brow furrowed. "Solona? Are you alright?"

She was on him in seconds, her fists gripping at his linen tunic. "No, I am most certainly _not_ alright!" she hissed between her teeth, eyes flashing angrily. "You've just told me that I'm bloody well going to _die_ in thirty years, and that I'm doomed to have nightmares for what little time I _do _have left. Were you a rolling ball of sunshine when you found out?" She was breathing raggedly, her chest heaving against his.

Alistair's eyes widened. He gripped her elbows gently and searched her features. "I—I know it may seem unfair to be told all of this _after_ joining, but unfortun-"

Solona pulled away from him. Her face was once again masked in impassivity. "That was unexpected," she said.

"You're telling me."

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss?" Alistair shook his head. "Very well, I will continue practicing with the crossbow." Solona stood and wandered back to where she'd been using the bow.

Alistair watched her for a time, until he was certain she would show no further signs of the anger she'd displayed. He never thought he'd see her eyes filled with such...heat. He'd been a bit intimidated by her outburst to be sure, but it had also stirred something in Alistair that he had been suppressing since meeting Solona. He thought that if perhaps she continued to show these signs of emotion, she might be well on her way to becoming whole again. For the first time since Ostagar, Alistair had hope.

**~*O*~*O*~**

Solona traded her Circle robes for plain clothing for practicality purposes. She tucked her breeches into her leather boots, and let her cotton tunic hang loosely about her hips. With the crossbow slung over her shoulder, she led the party to Redcliffe. She was not accustomed to leading anyone anywhere, not while she was old Amell, and certainly not while she was Tranquil Amell. As they neared the city, she felt a tug on her sleeve.

"Hey—can we talk for a minute? I have something I need to tell you," Alistair pulled her aside from the rest of the group.

Solona inclined her head, a signal for him to continue.

He seemed to fidget a bit. "I know we haven't really talked about this, but I thought you should know…" He shot a furtive glance to the windmill that sat at the edge of a nearby cliff. "I'm a bastard, and I mean that in the literal sense. My mother was a servant at the palace and she—dallied…with…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I'm just going to come out and say it. My father was King Maric."

"I see."

"I would have told you earlier, but with what happened in Ostagar, and Duncan…it just…slipped my mind?"

"It slipped your mind?" she repeated back to him.

Alistair chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Yes. Well, no. I just didn't want you to treat me any differently. It's never meant anything to me, being the king's bastard, but for some reason it changes the way people see me. I didn't want that to happen with you."

"I see you no differently than I did before," Solona replied. She paused for a moment before continuing. "Does this mean that you are heir to the throne?"

Alistair flinched. "Maker's breath, I hope not! I mean, I don't think so. Do you think so? No, just no. I've no illusions about my status. I'm a Grey Warden, nothing else."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I was raised by Arl Eamon, and I figured that you might hear about it when we get to the city. I wanted you to hear this from me, not some random person in Redcliffe," he said.

"Very well, if there is nothing else I believe we should continue," Solona turned away from her companion. She stopped when Alistair grasped her wrist. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

"I—uhm—also wanted to tell you that I quite like your choice in clothing. They suit you much better than the Circle robes," his cheeks were practically crimson.

Solona looked down at her tunic and breeches, then turned back to Alistair. She noted that his gaze seemed fixed on a spot at her lower back. Perhaps her rear? He shook himself and looked away bashfully. Solona did not understand this behaviour, but she recognized the social cue. "Thank you, I appreciate you saying so," she replied.

His eyes widened and he jerked his head toward her. "Really?"

"No."

"Maker's breath!"

**~*O*~*O*~**

"Walking dead?" Alistair exclaimed incredulously. "You can't be serious, Bann Teagan."

Teagan sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm afraid it's true. Eamon is in the castle, sick or dead. Connor and Isolde are there with him…and these monsters attack us in the night. Alistair, I hate to ask, but we need your help."

"I would, but it isn't just up to me," he replied.

"We need this Arl Eamon to assist us in the Blight, do we not?" Solona interrupted.

"Yes, and his support would definitely help in bringing Loghain to justice as well," Alistair pointed out.

Solona nodded. "Then we help Redcliffe tonight and storm the castle at dawn. We have no other choice."

"Thank you, my lady. Your kindness knows no bounds," Teagan bowed to Solona.

"I am not doing this out of kindness."

"Be that as it may, we still appreciate it," Teagan said, unfazed. "Please see Murdoch for further instructions, as well as Ser Perth. They will let you know what it is that they need to prepare for the upcoming battle."

Alistair was pleased that they would be helping Bann Teagan and the Arl. Solona was proving to be a better leader than he'd expected. All of her decisions were made with the utmost logic, and she only ever reached a decision by examining all possible options. In this case, Alistair knew that she might have chosen to leave Redcliffe if she thought that saving it was more trouble than it was worth. As they exited the Chantry, Alistair saw a young woman crying. Solona's gaze drifted toward her, but she continued walking. He felt a little cold leaving the poor girl bawling her eyes out, but he was never entirely comfortable around weeping women. He never seemed to say the right thing.

After talking to Murdoch, they were able to ascertain that the most pressing issue was the fact that the town's smithy refused to supply armour for the militia. They were also told about a dwarf named Dwyn who would no doubt make a welcome addition to the field. They were able to convince Owain, the blacksmith, to help with the armour after promising to save his daughter from Castle Redcliffe. Unfortunately, Dwyn was not as easy to convince. In fact, when they reached his house, no one answered the door.

"Kick the door down," Solona ordered.

Alistair blanched. "What? This is someone's house! We can't just go around breaking in!"

"We need more bodies on the field. He is a warrior, and a citizen of Redcliffe. He needs to participate in the battle. Kick the door down," Solona ordered once again.

"No! I refuse to just-"

"Sten, kick the door down."

Sten stepped forward and without a moment's hesitation, kicked the door from its hinges. Solona nodded in his direction and entered the house.

"Wonderful, intruders! Is there a reason you're breaking and entering into my home?" asked the very disgruntled home owner.

Solona glided over to the three armoured men. She wasn't fazed in the least, though Alistair eyed the large axe one of them carried in a decidedly weary manner. "We mean you no harm, nor do we wish to steal anything. You are Dwyn, I presume? I am Solona of the Grey Wardens. Murdoch requires your aid in the battle tonight against the creatures."

"Forget it, I'm not helping those morons," Dwyn growled.

Solona seemed to assess the dwarf, her gaze shifting from his eyes and sloping downward to his feet. When she spoke, her voice was not angry or menacing in the least, which is perhaps why it caused a shudder to run down Alistair's spine. "If you do not agree, this Qunari will separate your head from your body. I will loose a bolt into the eye of the man on your left, and my fellow Grey Warden will eviscerate the one on your right."

Dwyn swallowed audibly. "So this is what it's come to, huh? Fine, we'll fight. But we'd better see you out there too."

"You will," Solona replied before exiting the house.


	6. And Everything Nice

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age, I own...A NEW HOUSE! Well, I guess technically the bank owns most of it...but it's mine, all mine! And I move in next Tuesday! Oh, wait, this was supposed to be a disclaimer right?

**A/N: **Many thanks to the kind reviews and CC, and as a result, I have used this chapter as a way of revealing some of Solona's character, or rather her past, without making her...un-Tranquil. So think of this as a character building type thing...Yeah. Love you all! *Hearts*

* * *

_Stapled shut inside an outside world  
And I'm sealed in tight  
Bizarre but right at home  
I'm claustrophobic closing in  
And I'm catastrophic_

_~Before I Forget – Slipknot~_

Alistair took another sip from his tankard of ale. He, Solona, Mac and Leliana were exhausted after spending the day running around completing tasks for both Murdock and Ser Perth. Solona had sent Sten back to camp after he'd complained that they were wasting their time. Leliana had happily taken his place. While she wasn't happy with Solona handing out the Chantry amulets to bolster the men's courage, she was still giddy at the prospect of being part of the battle. As they awaited nightfall, Leliana attempted to engage Solona in some friendly banter.

"What were you like, before you were made Tranquil?" the minstrel asked, her head cocked to one side.

"Foolish."

Leliana giggled. "Come now, surely that's not all you can tell me?"

Solona took a sip of her water. "Some of the Senior Enchanters described me as a trouble maker. Others said I was simply spreading my wings. The only thing they agreed on was that I had a knack for all things arcane. Most mages specialize in one field of magic. I spent my time trying to master them all. I imagine that I would have found it difficult, dividing my time between studies and putting together elaborate pranks to play on the more…stodgy mages. I do not remember ever being unhappy, though."

"Was there ever anyone…special?" Leliana asked coyly, her eyes dazzling mischievously.

Alistair nearly choked on his ale. He could feel his ears heating up as he cast a sideward glance in Solona's direction.

Solona shrugged her shoulders. "There were one or two boys that held my interest. Only one was ever really serious. The Circle tended to frown on any fraternizing between the mages therefore…intimate activities were difficult to engage in. Mostly in dark corners, broom closets."

"Broom closets?" Alistair exclaimed. "Isn't that a little…tawdry?"

"Most teenage affairs are tawdry," Solona replied easily.

"She has you there," Leliana teased. She turned her attention back to Solona. "So, this man you were involved with…was he handsome?"

"I found him pleasing to the eye, yes. Though now I cannot say the same."

"Why not?" Leliana asked.

"He turned into an abomination and the Templars were forced to cut off his head," Solona explained.

Leliana's hand flew to her lips. "I'm so sorry! You must have been so upset!"

"I suppose at the time I was. Now I realize that he should have been more vigilant in his studies, for his weakness was what caused him to fall prey to a demon of the Fade."

Leliana shook her head in wonder. "Maker's mercy, you poor dear, having to worry about demons at every turn. It must be terrifying."

Solona sipped at her water. "I need not worry about such things. I have been cut off from the Fade. Demons can no longer possess me."

Leliana decided it would be better to change the subject. "What about the other boy you were interested in? What happened to him?"

For several moments Solona almost seemed wistful. She gazed past Leliana's shoulder fixedly before replying. "Our relationship was purely physical, and entirely inappropriate. He blamed me for having to break his vows, and treated me poorly as a result. Perhaps that was the reason why he chose to rebel against the conscription and perform the Rite."

Alistair's mouth hung open for several moments, the implications of what his friend was saying slowly sinking in. "The _Knight-Commander _was intimate with you?"

Solona nodded.

Alistair felt the rage and disgust bubbling in the pit of his stomach. "I—I think I need a moment." He paid for his ale and stood, stalking out of the tavern.

He had been lunging and swinging his sword angrily when Solona joined him. Her hands hung loosely at her sides. She watched him for several moments before she approached him.

"You are disgusted with me."

Alistair stopped abruptly, breathing raggedly. Sweat beaded on his forehead and poured down his temples and cheeks. He sheathed his sword and sighed. "No, I'm not disgusted with you at all."

Solona's eyes flickered. "Then why did you leave so suddenly?" Smooth…gentle…her voice was like silk against his skin.

"I was disgusted by…" His fists clenched together in anger. "Maker, he was supposed to be _protecting _you! Watching over you! Not drooling after you like some lecher! He took advantage of his position just so he could get into your skirts. That goes against everything he's supposed to stand for."

"He told me I was at fault, and I was. Had I not been born of sin, the temptation wouldn't have been so great-"

"Bullshit!" Alistair roared. "That's exactly the kind of hogwash that made me want to get out of the Chantry as quickly as possible." He inhaled deeply to calm himself. "Solona, you did nothing wrong. You were not 'born of sin'. It was his own fault for not being able to control his urges. For him to even imply that you were the one to blame…" He glanced at the ground. "You were not born of sin at all, Solona. You were born with a gift. A wonderful gift. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Do you understand?"

Solona's eyes searched his. He could see her jaw muscles working, as though he were some sort of puzzle she was desperately trying to unravel. "Why are you telling me all of this? I no longer feel any pain at what was done to me. It is of no consequence."

"I'm telling you because I—" his cheeks flushed, and his hand dropped to his side. "You're my sister-in-arms, and I want you to know that we're in this together, alright?"

"Very well. Sundown is fast approaching. We should gather the men for the battle."

Alistair watched as Solona marched toward the village, her crossbow swinging back and forth on her back. He took a moment to collect himself and followed her.

**~*O*~*O*~**

"You have had this signet ring…and you are only now telling us about it."

Bann Teagan regarded Solona with more than a bit of fear. He wasn't used to dealing with woman so cut off from their emotions. In his experience women were ruled by their emotions alone, so to encounter one without any feelings was more than a trifle unsettling. "Had I told you about the secret passageway you would not have stayed to defend the village."

"That is not logical. What good is an alliance with Redcliffe when all of its villagers are dead? We would have fought, just as we did last night, and won without casualties, again, just as we did last night. You were not forthcoming in your description of the situation. Why should we believe anything you say now?" Solona's gaze was cold and unrelenting.

"I apologize for misleading you, Warden, but I assure you that what I say is true. And-Maker's breath!" Teagan pointed to a spot behind their group.

Alistair turned his head and let out a groan. Lady Isolde came barrelling down the hill, screaming out Teagan's name. She begged him to accompany her to the castle for Connor's sake. She explained that a mage had infiltrated the castle and had poisoned the arl. Alistair was still ticked off at her for her treatment of him all those years ago.

"How do we know this is not an ambush?" Solona asked.

"What?" Isolde spat disdainfully. "Who is this woman Teagan?"

As Teagan explained their presence, Alistair felt Solona sidle up to him. "That's the bitch that tossed you into the Chantry, isn't it?"

Alistair coughed to cover his reaction. He gawked down at Solona, who simply stared up at him, eyes twinkling. "What? How did you know about that?"

"I know a lot of things…" she replied. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I still have my fillet knife on me, want me to make her a little less pretty?" Her smile was saturated with sweetness, though the malevolent glint in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

"Eziel?" Alistair ventured. She let out a peel of laughter. "I should have known. How'd you manage to fix your eyes?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Only took a bit of practice. It's not difficult, after all. You humans are so easy to copy."

Alistair sighed and ran his hand over his forehead. "How long have you been…around. Here, I mean."

Eziel shrugged a shoulder. "Not long. I sometimes get so bored sitting around in this body, with nothing to do. I thought I'd come out to play."

Leliana interrupted their back and forth. "Do you think we should really let Bann Teagan go in there with that woman?"

"Why not? If he has a death wish…" Eziel chuckled darkly.

Leliana's eyes widened. "Solona! Don't say such things! Wait…were you just laughing?" She sent Alistair a confused glance.

"Leliana, this is Eziel, Eziel, this is Leliana. Eziel is some sort of being that is able to take over Solona's body. Apparently she's not an abomination, nor is she the archdemon. That's about all I know about her," Alistair explained.

"Oh, well—um—it's a pleasure to meet you, Eziel," Leliana inclined her head in Eziel's direction.

Eziel's eyes sparkled. "The pleasure is all mine, believe me." She returned her attention to Alistair. "So, seeing as that silly nobleman is going into the castle, I suppose we should make haste and go in through the windmill. As usual, it's up to us to save the day, no?"

Alistair gazed at Eziel with uncertainty. "Are you sure you can handle yourself in a fight?"

Eziel smiled. "I can hold my own."

The three of them and Mac entered the windmill and descended through the secret passageway. The air was dank and musky. Alistair felt the slightest twinge of claustrophobia wrap around his chest like a steel band. He shook the sensation off and followed Eziel and Leliana, while Mac fell in behind them. They reached an old rotted doorway and could hear shouts from the other side.

"I wonder what all the commotion's about," Alistair muttered. Eziel tried the door and found it opened. It swung inward, and the group was faced with a dungeon of sorts. What held their attention, however, were the undead creatures attacking one of the prisoners. To Alistair's horror, Eziel began to point and laugh.

Leliana loosed several arrows at the monsters, and Mac bounded forward, taking one creature out with a single bite to the throat. Alistair hacked away at their foes, his sword sinking into the greasy grey flesh of the zombies. He felt claws rip into his face from behind, leaving large ribbons of blood in their wake. As he turned to face his enemy, he saw a bolt suddenly lodge into the monster's neck. It fell to the ground instantly. He lifted his head and glanced at Eziel, who was smiling arrogantly. Her expression changed, however, and within seconds she was right in front of him.

"You're bleeding, Warden," her voice was low and husky. Her eyes were heavily lidded.

Alistair found himself trapped in the depths of her eyes as she stood up on her tiptoes and placed her hands on his shoulders. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and glided along the scratches on his cheek. His knees felt like jelly, and he let loose a low groan as she lapped up the small rivulets of blood. He was bombarded with images once again, though these ones were entirely more pleasant. Solona, swimming off the shores of Lake Calenhad, her hair damp and lustrous in the afternoon sun. She made her way to the edge of the lake, and the surface of the water slipped past her shoulders to reveal that she was not wearing her robes, or anything at all really. Her gaze fixed on the shoreline, one foot moving in front of the other until-

Leliana cleared her throat.

Eziel pulled away, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. "Sorry, couldn't help myself."

Alistair shook himself, his face flaming. "Wh-what _are_ you? A vampire?"

Eziel waved him off. "Never mind that, let's check on the prisoner."

They wandered over to the cell that held the prisoner who'd been screaming only a few moments earlier. Alistair noted that he was wearing Circle robes, and wondered idly what he was doing in the arl's dungeon.

"In the name of all that's holy—you! I never thought I'd see you again, of all people!" the prisoner exclaimed. It seemed he was addressing Solona, or in this case, Eziel.

"Ah, what have we here? Jowan, isn't it? Fine mess you've gotten yourself into," Eziel folded her arms over her chest and smirked.

Jowan swayed back and forth as though he were about to faint. "Lonnie, how did you get here? I thought they…After what happened."

"You mean after you acted the part of the coward and took off? Yes, they punished me. Thanks for that, by the way. If you hadn't foolishly tried to destroy your phylactery, I would have never had this opportunity," Eziel remarked.

Jowan's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? What opportunity? Lonnie, you're confusing me. If anything, I should be mad at you for letting you convince me that blood magic would improve my-"

"Shut up!" Eziel snapped. "Explain what you're doing here."

Jowan went on to explain how he'd been hired by Teyrn Loghain to poison Arl Eamon under the guise of tutoring his son, Connor, who was showing signs of being a mage.

"Connor? A mage? I can't believe it," Alistair murmured.

"And they wanted _you_ to tutor him? No wonder the town is crawling with demons," Eziel scoffed.

Jowan moved forward, grasping the bars of his cell. "I want to make things right, Lonnie. Please, let me help."

Eziel folded her arms over her chest and watched him for a time. After several minutes she turned to Leliana. "Can you pick the lock?" Leliana nodded. "Please do so." As Leliana performed the task, Eziel spoke to Jowan. "You are to leave this place and never return. I suppose I owe you that much for all that's happened between us. But if I see you again, make no mistake, I will kill you."

Jowan nodded gratefully and fled the dungeon. Alistair turned to Eziel. "Why did you let him go?"

"Seemed like the right thing to do," Eziel replied.

Alistair frowned. "But he poisoned the arl!"

Eziel sighed. "If you want, you're welcome to go after him and run him through. No? Didn't think so."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "How did you know all of that stuff about Solona's past anyway? Do you share her memories now as well?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. She's led a very interesting life, to say the least. Well, for a human anyhow."

"Then…what did Jowan mean when he said it was her fault for convincing him to use blood magic to improve his abilities? Was he lying?" Alistair asked.

A wicked smile curled upon Eziel's lips. "The answer is simple, really. Your darling Solona was a blood mage."


	7. Spawn of the Dead

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age, I own a pink iPod.

**A/N: **Thanks goes out to readers, reviewers, and that special someone. You know who you are!

* * *

_Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the left_  
_You'll find my favourite axe_  
_Don't look so frightened_  
_This is just a passing phase_  
_Just one of my bad days_

_~One Of My Turns - Pink Floyd~_

"I don't believe you," Alistair growled. "Duncan would never recruit a blood mage."

Eziel raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't he? I was under the impression that Wardens would stop at nothing to defeat the Blight, even if that meant dabbling in more…taboo activities."

"Why should I believe you?" Alistair pressed. "For all I know, you could be lying."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Why don't you ask her yourself? I doubt she'd lie to you. In fact, I don't think she's even capable of lying right now. Rather inconvenient if you ask me."

"Fine, I'll ask her. Get her out here right now."

Eziel shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm having _far_ too much fun at the moment. These undead creatures are just too precious! The way they sway to and fro, moaning for brains…Simply marvellous!"

"You're insane," Alistair grumbled.

"So I've been told," Eziel conceded. "Though sanity is entirely overrated, don't you think?" She turned toward the door leading to the next room and kicked it open. More corpses littered the floor. "Delightful! Who wants to wager they come to life at any second?" She clasped her hands together and skipped into the room.

Alistair glanced at Leliana. "Should we even let her continue on?"

Leliana shrugged. "She can still fight, though she is a tad…eccentric."

"Yes, and that's never stopped us from allowing someone to fight by our side. We did let you come along after all," Alistair teased. His comment earned him a slap upside the head. "Hey!" Before he could form a proper retort, he saw one of the corpses rise out of the corner of his eye. The first corpse was followed by several others.

"I told you they'd wake up!" Eziel said gleefully. She took aim with her crossbow and loosed several bolts. Three of the undead monsters took fatal hits and fell to the stone floor. Eziel withdrew her fillet knife and placed it between her teeth. She cart-wheeled over to the last two monsters and slashed into them with the small dagger. Black viscous fluid poured from their wounds. "Ick," her face twisted in disgust. Alistair leapt forward and finished them off with his longsword. He caught Eziel staring at him.

"What?"

"You're really good with your sword," she said with a cheeky grin. Alistair's cheeks flared red. "Oh don't be so bashful," she admonished. "Yeesh, you'd think you were a virgin or something." Alistair's eyes widened in horror. "Oh my!" Eziel giggled and tweaked his nose. "Don't worry, ser templar, your secret is safe with me. And Solona of course." She spun on her heel and galloped up the stairs, her ginger hair bouncing on her shoulders.

The rest of the castle was overrun with zombies. Though the supply of them seemed endless, they were easy enough to dispatch. At one point Alistair had beheaded one of the creatures, and Eziel had picked up the head and shoved her fist through its bloodied neck, playing the part of a ventriloquist. Leliana promptly threw up at the display. "So queasy!" Eziel huffed.

The group stumbled upon the smith's daughter, who had hidden herself away in a small closet. Alistair managed to calm her and convince her to flee by way of the secret passage way. Soon they were in the courtyard and were face to face with what Eziel called a Revenant. Alistair had never seen anything more terrifying in his life. It reached out with one hand, and in a split second Alistair was at the spirit's feet, dazed and immobile. Leliana let out a cry and began pelting the Revenant with arrows, while Mac lunged for its tattered robes. None of these attacks prevented the Revenant from wielding its sword over its head, the sun reflecting off its edge. Alistair watched in impotent fear as the blade descended…a flaming bolt was suddenly protruding from its chest, setting the Revenant ablaze. It let out a tortured cry and flew backward, tripping over itself. Alistair took the opportunity to scramble to his feet. Without a moment's hesitation he flung his shield into his opponent, then finished it off with a sword to its heart…assuming it had a heart. Alistair's chest rose and fell from exertion and fear. He glanced over his shoulder and spied Leliana.

"Thanks for that. But how did you manage to set one of your arrows on fire?" he asked.

Leliana shook her head bewilderedly. "It was not one of _my _arrows…it was one of Eziel's bolts…"

Eziel strode over to Alistair and inspected him. "I don't think you're injured," she muttered. "Next time you see a Revenant try to wave at you like that, make sure to duck."

"How did you-"

"Never mind. Let's find out what's happening in that bloody castle. I'm tingling with anticipation," Eziel said dryly.

They climbed the steps and made their way into the main hall. The first person Alistair saw was Bann Teagan, and he was _definitely_ not himself. The Bann performed an acrobatic act of sorts, clearly putting on a show for the young boy that stood before a large fireplace. Isolde stood next to the boy, her posture slouched and defeated. Teagan did a back flip for his finale, and came to a rest at the applauding boy's feet. Alistair could only assume that the boy was Connor.

"These are our visitors? What is it mother? I can't see it properly," Connor's voice was eerily similar to what Eziel had sounded like before she'd made…adjustments.

"This-this is a woman Connor, just as I am," Isolde stammered, indicating Eziel.

"This woman is nothing like you. She's half your age, and pretty too. I'm surprised you don't have her executed!" the boy announced.

"No! Connor, please don't hurt anyone else!" Isolde cried.

"M-mother? What's happening?" Alistair noted that the boy's voice had returned to normal.

Isolde fell to her knees and threw her arms around her son. "Oh thank the Maker Connor!"

"Silence, fool woman! I am sick of your endless blabbering. I crave excitement!" The evil voice had returned.

"This kid's crazier than a shit-house rat," Eziel murmured to Alistair.

"You're one to talk," Alistair retorted.

Eziel giggled. "_Touché._"

While they'd been chatting, Connor had apparently decided to unleash his fury on them. Guards sprang to life and began to attack the four of them. Bann Teagan, who up until then had played the part of the court jester, unsheathed his sword and bellowed a war cry. Though they were outnumbered, they managed to best the contingent of guards and the possessed Bann. Isolde bent down and helped Teagan to his feet.

"Teagan? Oh Teagan, blessed Andraste I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you," Isolde cried.

Eziel rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you dragged him in here."

"I had to! For Connor's sake! He is not always the demon, you saw the change!" Isolde pleaded.

Alistair sighed, running his gauntleted hand through his hair. "He isn't Connor anymore. He's been possessed. Normally I wouldn't suggest slaying a child…"

"We can't seriously be considering harming a poor boy, no matter what the circumstances!" Leliana frowned.

"We need to enter the Fade," Eziel interjected. All eyes were on her. "We all saw that Connor isn't entirely possessed. A mage must enter the Fade and slay the demon, separating the bond that holds them together."

"How does one enter the Fade?" Teagan asked.

"We could always use the annoying Arlessa as a ritual sacrifice. Nothing like a bit of good old fashioned blood magic," Eziel sneered. Isolde paled visibly. "Or we could head to the Circle of Magi and gather some mages and lyrium. That would work just as well."

Alistair nodded. "That is a very good point. The Tower isn't far from here, and one of our treaties is with them."

"The Tower is about a day's journey from here. I will take care of things while you are gone. Luck be with you my friends," Teagan bowed.

The group left the main hall and headed toward their camp.

**~*O*~*O*~**

Alistair had begun to pull up camp, when he felt a hand on his elbow.

"It is too late to travel. We will eat, get some sleep, and set out in the morning," his fellow Grey Warden gazed up at him, her tone was gentle, and her eyes were free of emotion.

"Oh Sol, thank the Maker you're back," Alistair pulled her into an embrace. "Your counterpart is just far too insane for my tastes."

She allowed him to hug her. "Yes, she seldom makes sense when she speaks to me in my mind," Solona replied. "She speaks of new ages, and dawn…I find myself drifting when she takes over."

Alistair held her out at arm's length. "She said something to me…She told me that you were-that you were a blood mage. Is that true?"

"Yes."

Alistair winced. "But why? How could you do such a thing? It's evil, Sol. You must have known that it could get you killed."

"At the time I saw it as a powerful tool. No more than an incorporeal sword to wield should the need arise. I was careful in my studies, and I never used others for my spells."

"But Jowan said-"

"Jowan followed me one night and threatened to report me to the Knight-Commander. I told him that studying blood magic improves the strength of spells. He then insisted that I teach him. I believe that I regretted that decision, for it led to…many unfortunate events," she explained. "I believe that I initially began my study of blood magic as an act of rebellion against the Knight-Commander. It was perhaps petty, but at the time I needed to lash out." She shrugged a shoulder.

Alistair pulled her back into his arms. "I think I understand. Just-promise me, when you go back to being…well, normal…please don't use blood magic. It changes people."

"As you wish." She pulled away from him and began preparations for dinner. "Come, we should eat. I am hungry." She handed Alistair several herbs to crush in her mortar. He chuckled and set to work. They prepared supper in companionable silence when their Qunari companion lumbered up to them.

"I don't understand, you look like a woman," Sten addressed Solona.

She glanced up at him. "I am a woman."

"You are a Grey Warden, so it stands to reason that you can't be a woman," Sten asserted.

"The two are mutually exclusive?" Solona asked.

"Grey Wardens are warriors of legend. Women are artisans, farmers or priests. Not warriors."

"You look like a Qunari," she observed.

"I am."

Solona continued to skin the hare she'd been preparing. "Yet you are not a mercenary. All Qunari are mercenaries."

"That is not true, only those of the Tal'Vashoth are mercenaries. They do not follow the sacred Qun," Sten snapped. "You cannot judge an entire race based on what little you have experienced in your country."

Solona raised an eyebrow at him pointedly. "Not everything is as it seems," she gutted the hare, finished with the discussion. Sten grumbled and wandered off.

"That's the most I've heard him say since he got here," Alistair marvelled.

Solona set to roasting the hare. "He speaks with me frequently. He finds my presence unnerving. I do nothing to assuage his concerns, and this bothers him. I believe he sees me as a puzzle that needs solving."

"Maybe he has a thing for you," Alistair teased.

Solona shook her head. "I imagine sexual relations with a Qunari would be painful. Were I to engage in such an activity, it would be advisable that I choose a more appropriate partner. Of our companions, you would best fit that description."

Alistair, who'd been paring a potato, cut his thumb and let loose a yelp. "Uh, yes well, no one is engaging in any activities of the sort, so we needn't worry!" He leapt to his feet and backed away from the campfire. "Oh, I cut myself. I'd better get a bandage before I bleed all over the food!" He felt Solona's eyes boring into his back as he ducked into his tent. As the flap fell shut behind him, he exhaled slowly. He cursed under his breath, willing the image of he and Solona having sex from his mind. Unfortunately, the more he tried to push the image away, the more ingrained it became. His breeches were growing increasingly tight, and he idly wondered if he'd be able to calm down in time for supper.

Fat chance.


	8. Circular Logic

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age. I, however, own this nifty bottle of A535...Man that stuff stinks.

**A/N: **This chapter's a long one, so bear with me! Lots of stuff happening! I changed Alistair's Fade encounter the tiniest bit. And of course, thanks to the reviewers, readers, and people like you!

* * *

_Along the alleys of her ruling fears_  
_Walk the visions that will cause her tears_  
_Lying still as she wills her glance_  
_Through the eyes of a charmers trance_

_~The Bazaar - The Tea Party~_

Alistair stood on the shores of Lake Calanhad. The water was calm, not a single ripple marred the surface. It was almost as though it was acting as a juxtaposition of the events that were occurring within the Circle Tower. They'd heard word that the Right of Annulment had been called, and that did not bode well for their quest to gather allies. Alistair glanced over at Solona. She remained as cool and collected as ever. He was terrified on her behalf. Not because of what potential dangers the Tower held in terms of demons and abominations, but because of the sordid past that Solona would no doubt have to face.

They arrived at the docks, and a single templar stood guard. Alistair didn't recognize him. Before they approached him, Solona pulled their group aside.

"We will proceed in a group of four. Alistair, since we are dealing with mages, you are my first choice. You have templar training which could prove useful," Alistair nodded his assent. "Leliana, you are my second choice, as you are adept with ranged attacks. You will be able to pick off large groups of enemies that may try and flank us, should the need arise. Sten, I believe you would also be a good choice due to your brute strength. If we are fighting mages, you will dispatch them easily. If we are fighting templars, you will be able to assist Alistair in combat," Solona tossed a glance over her shoulder to where Morrigan stood, her arms over her chest. "I would bring you along Morrigan, but it would not be safe for you. This tower is crawling with templars. They have no power over me since I am Tranquil, but regardless of how strong your spells are, they will still be able to take you down. I cannot take that risk."

Morrigan opened her mouth to argue, but soon let it fall shut. She simply nodded and turned on her heel. She took on the form of a wolf and bounded off into the thickening darkness.

The four members of the party ventured across the squeaky dock. They were eventually face to face with the templar sentry. "If you're looking to get across to the Tower, you might as well turn back now. I've strict instructions from the Knight-Commander not to let anyone cross."

Alistair's felt the growing rage at the pit of his stomach. _So the __**Knight-Commander **__gave strict instructions, did he?_ Alistair scowled.

"We are here on important Grey Warden business," Solona announced calmly. "These treaties oblige the mages to aid against the Blight."

"Oh, a Grey Warden seal! You're claiming to be one of those, are you? I have papers too. They say I'm the queen of Antiva, what do you say to that?"

"Aren't queens supposed to be female?" Alistair interjected.

"Don't question royalty! Now, if that's everything, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. Off you go!" the templar began shooing them away.

Solona blinked up at him. "You are not seriously suggesting that we will not be permitted to ride this ferry to Kinloch Hold, are you? Even with the evidence I have provided you?"

The templar gave a self-important grin, his arms folding across his heavy plate armour. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."

Solona nodded. She handed the treaties to Alistair, who gazed at her bewilderedly. "Very well. You stay here, Alistair. I shall return shortly with Greagoir. He will be quite displeased with this treatment." Without further ado, Solona leapt into the cold, murky depths of Lake Calanhad. Alistair watched in abject horror as his fellow Grey Warden swam away from the shoreline. Night had descended, and the silvery moon cast the lake in a preternatural glow

"Sol! Are you insane? You'll drown!" Alistair cried out.

The templar shook his head. "I doubt that. When she was a kid she'd always swim across the lake. When she was about twelve or so she even tried to escape with one of the other mages. Used to follow him about like a puppy." He chuckled. "I always marveled that she was such a tubby little thing but still managed to swim like a fish…That was before she-erm-developed other assets of course." The templar's face was almost the same colour as the skirts he wore. "There, see? She's almost at the other side."

"You'd better get us over there before she has the Knight-Commander tear into you for insulting Grey Wardens. Trust me, I've seen her intimidation techniques. You don't want to be at the receiving end of them," Alistair threatened.

The templar, having decided that he most certainly did _not _want to bear the brunt of anyone's wrath, promptly hustled the remaining members of the group onto the small rowboat. When they reached the other side, Solona was standing stock still, her arms hanging stiffly at her sides. She was soaking wet from her swim, and she was shivering. Alistair's wits fled him at that precise moment. He could only drink in the way Sol's tunic, now completely transparent, clung to her skin. Her breast band did little to hide the rosy peaks that had hardened from the chilled waters. His eyes swept down to the soft cushioning of her belly, which dipped in just slightly at her waist. His perusal was cut off by her leather breeches, but he was still able to appreciate the ample swell of her hips. Alistair licked his lips, which were suddenly parched. He was just beginning to admire her shapely thighs when someone from behind him cleared their throat.

"Alistair? Are you alright?" Leliana asked.

He shook himself and nodded. "Yes, of course. I was just thinking that Sol needs a change of clothes."

"I put a spare set in your pack," Solona replied, her teeth chattering. Alistair raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He rummaged around in his pack for several moments before happening upon a tawny pair of breeches (linen this time) entirely too large in the hips for him, and a mulberry coloured tunic (also linen) that laced up the front. His cheeks coloured when he found a spare set of women's smalls as well. He handed the clothing to her in a bundle and she began stripping out of her wet garments right in front of them.

Alistair squawked and spun on his heel. Sten and the templar-sentry did the same. "Maker's breath Sol! Not that I don't enjoy a woman in wet frocks, but you could at least warn us before you start to de-clothe."

"Why? There is nothing to be embarrassed by. Or is it because you find the sight of my body displeasing? I have memories of being ill at ease with my figure, thinking myself overly plump. I no longer have these feelings, but perhaps it is the reason you wish to avert your eyes?" Solona queried from behind them.

Alistair groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "No, your body is more than pleasing—I mean, not that I noticed. But if I were to be pleased by a body, I would find yours most—Andraste's foot, why do I keep talking?"

Leliana had gone into a fit of giggles. Sten glanced at Alistair out of the corner of his eye. "I often wonder the same, Warden. Many of your problems would be solved were you to keep your mouth firmly shut."

"You may turn around, I am dressed," Solona announced.

Alistair let out a sigh of relief. "Alright, time's wasting. We'd best try and gather those allies."

Saying the state of the Tower was chaotic would be an understatement. Templars ran about aimlessly in the front hall, occasionally banging into each other. Several men were wounded and being tended to. The Knight-Commander was barking orders at his men when they approached him.

"The doors are locked," Alistair murmured. "Are they keeping people out, or in?"

Greagoir finally took note of their presence. "Well, look who's back. A proper Grey Warden now, are you? Glad you're not dead." The glare he leveled at Sol could have crushed a small army. But there was something else behind the glare. Something primal, possessive. Alistair found himself standing between his sister-in-arms and the Knight-Commander.

"Knight-Commander, it has been quite some time since we last saw one another. What is happening here?" Sol asked evenly.

Greagoir sighed. "Allow me to speak freely. The Tower has been overrun with abominations. Our only hope for survival is on its way. I have called for the Right of Annulment."

Alistair's eyes widened. "You're going to wipe out the mages? But the Grey Wardens require their allegiance to defeat the Blight."

Greagoir rolled his eyes. "I grow weary of the Grey Warden's constant demands for reinforcements. We have much more pressing issues to attend to."

Solona, who had been watching their back and forth silently, piped up. "Surely there are survivors. Not everyone could have perished."

"I do not have men to spare, and besides, to hope for survivors only to find none…it would simply be too much," his gaze fell to the floor and his voice cracked.

"Then we will search for survivors."

For once, Greagoir actually looked shocked. "I assure you, an abomination is not something to be taken lightly."

Solona's shoulders lifted. "If there is any chance, we must try."

"If you were to succeed we would be in your debt; but know this: once you cross through that door I will accept only the word of the First Enchanter himself that matters have been settled. May Andraste lend you her courage, whatever you decide," Greagoir said.

Solona nodded and gestured for her companions to follow her. Alistair froze when he saw Greagoir reach out and grasp Solona's bicep. "I have not forgotten your part in Jowan's escape. If you _do_ manage to clear out the Tower, I will dole out a proper punishment for your earlier actions, and it won't be death or tranquility." He gazed at her with feral hunger. Alistair's jaw clenched and he stalked over to the Knight-Commander.

"You will unhand her this instant," he hissed menacingly. "If you so much as raise a finger against this woman, I will make it my own personal mission to ensure that you live out the rest of your days as a eunuch."

Greagoir leered at him. "You intend to keep her under your watch every second that you're here?"

"If that's what it takes to keep your salacious hands off of her, then so be it," Alistair took Sol's hand into his and led her past the metal double doors leading further into the Tower. The doors slammed shut behind them, and they heard a metal bar slide into place.

"So this is the prison for your mages? Ours are not so grand," Sten mumbled.

Solona opened her mouth to reply, when the group heard several screams from a nearby room. Alistair, Leliana and Sten rushed toward the cries, weapons drawn. Several children and four mages were in the room, and were being attacked by a demon. The children cowered in one corner of the room, while an older woman wielded her staff and unleashed a flurry of magic. The other mages stood nearby, ready to lend support. Alistair was stunned when the silver haired woman managed to defeat the creature with relative ease. Once the demon had been vanquished, the woman turned, her sights trained on the newcomers. Her eyes widened in recognition when Solona ambled up beside Alistair.

"You! What are you doing back at the Tower?" the woman asked.

"The Wardens seek the aid of the mages. When we arrived we discovered that the Circle was in shambles. The Knight-Commander sent for the Right of Annulment. I offered to search for survivors. You are the first ones we have encountered," Solona paused in her explanation. "I remember you from my time as an apprentice. You are Wynne, yes?"

Wynne nodded. "I remember you as well. I didn't know Greagoir was capable of such…treachery. I am deeply sorry for what happened to you."

"You needn't be. I am not. We waste time with this chatter. I am searching for the First Enchanter, do you know if he lives?"

"If anyone could survive this, it would be Irving. Unfortunately I have not seen him since the attacks started. He insisted I take the children and flee. I came here and erected a barrier so that no demons could pass through. Only I can destroy the barrier, which I will do, if you allow me to help you," Wynne said.

"Very well. Sten, you stay here and help guard the children. Alistair and Leliana will come with Wynne and I," Solona ordered. As they approached the barrier, Solona grabbed hold of her crossbow.

Wynne cast a sidelong glance in the Tranquil's direction. "Be on your guard."

**~*O*~*O*~**

Alistair wiped away the blood and sweat that had dripped into his eyes. A possessed templar lay dead at his feet. Solona knelt beside the fallen knight, rifling through his belongings. She pocketed some silvers and a trinket, then moved onto the next corpse. They'd been making their way through the Tower for what seemed like hours. They'd fought countless demons, abominations, zombies and possessed templars. Alistair could feel his strength wavering, despite the numerous rejuvenation spells that Wynne cast upon their group. The old mage was leaning on her staff, obviously exhausted. Leliana was slouched against a wall, her breath laboured. Even Sol, who normally never showed any outward signs of discomfort, was moving sluggishly. Her hair, normally shiny and luxurious, was caked with blood and chunks of flesh. They were now on two missions: find the First Enchanter, and find a mage named Niall, who apparently had something called the Litany of Adralla, which supposedly prevented mind domination. They learned this useful little fact from a Tranquil man named Owain. The group inferred that blood magic was the cause of the unrest in the Tower.

"If I remember correctly, that door should lead to the next section of the Tower," Solona murmured while pointing to a door directly across from them.

Alistair nodded and pushed the door open. A demon stood before them, perhaps seven feet tall. A mage lay at his feet.

"Oh look, visitors…" the demon said languidly. "You must be tired from all that work, come in and have a rest...you deserve it..."

The creature's voice was low and hypnotic. Alistair could feel his eyes growing heavy. "Can't…keep…eyes…open…"

Wynne grasped at her head. "Resist! You must resist!"

"I will not listen to your lies demon…" Leliana muttered feebly.

Solona stumbled on her feet. "We will…kill you…"

"But why?" the demon asked. "Just close your eyes, and I will take care of the rest…"

**~*O*~*O*~**

Before awareness, there was nothing but pain. A splitting pain that lanced through her skull. She screamed, her fingers scratching at her temples. With awareness came the tide of emotions. Every feeling that she had been denied came rushing at her, slamming into her like a battering ram. This went on for an eternity. She writhed about, clutching her head, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She was certain that before long, her head would split in two. Her stomach lurched, and she rolled onto her side. She wretched violently, the meager contents of her stomach spilling forth on the ground next to her. She drew in a deep breath, and slowly, gingerly, opened her eyes.

Solona took in her surroundings. She saw Duncan standing nearby. She was immediately filled with a sense of security. She felt safe.

She felt…she felt! That wasn't right.

Her eyes narrowed, a dawning realization awakening within her. She was in the Fade. The false sense of security was abruptly replaced by anger. Solona marched over to Duncan, fists clenched by her sides. He was smiling at her placidly.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Duncan looked surprised. "Why, we are at Weisshaupt Fortress. We defeated the darkspawn. Do you not remember? It was a glorious day for us all."

"Glorious?" Solona scoffed. "You're starting to sound like King Cailan, who I might add is just as dead as you are."

"Dead? Goodness no. Though I have come close many times," Duncan chuckled. "Are you not happy here?"

Solona folded her arms over her chest. "No, actually, I'm not. You're not real. This isn't real. It's the Fade. I will not be fooled by your silly illusions, demon."

Duncan's expression darkened. "Foolish child. It seems war and violence are the only things that will make you happy!" He drew his swords, and Solona's heart leapt into her throat. She reached for her crossbow, but apparently it was MIA. She backed away from the demon, her hands held out in front of her. Duncan grinned malevolently and lashed out with one of his daggers. Solona's eyes fell shut and she braced for impact…

Only, nothing happened. She opened her eyes. Duncan stood before her, frozen in place. A thick layer of ice covered his body. Solona glanced down at her hands, then back up at Duncan. She repeated this motion several times before a cat-like grin began to tug at the corners of her lips. She heard movement on her left; another demon in the guise of a mage. She pelted it with several arcane bolts. To her right was an archer, which she dispatched with a ridiculously large fireball. When she turned back to Duncan, he was beginning to thaw. She finished him off with several powerful bolts of lightening. The three of them were nothing but piles of ash and dead flesh on the ground. Solona was left standing by herself, gazing down at the palms of her hands. She let out a squeal of glee and began casting various spells; random, inane spells that would neither help nor hurt her current situation. She was elated. She was grinning like a fool.

That's when she saw the pedestal.

**~*O*~*O*~**

Solona was not impressed. Never before had she been subjected to such a convoluted puzzle with no discernable point. It was simply the sloth demon's method of having fun. She was furious, and if she didn't find her friends soon, she swore she'd throw herself on something sharp. After having to take on four different forms in order to pass through the realms that the demon had created, she was finally able to visit the islands that she was sure her friends inhabited.

On the first island she saw several dead apprentices littering the ground. In fact, as she warped into the realm, she tripped over one of the corpses.

"Son of a bitch!" she cried out as she landed straight onto her behind.

"So much carnage…Maker, how could I let this happen…"

Solona glanced up and saw Wynne gazing morosely at the many apprentices. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyes were red rimmed. "Wynne, none of this is real. You're in the Fade. You know, the dream place where demons and spirits have nothing better to do than mess with your head?"

"Leave me to my grief," the old mage muttered.

Solona got to her feet, dusting her hands off on her breeches. "No, I will not 'leave you to your grief'. We've got lots of stuff to do, and I'm not going to sit here and humour your morbid desire to grieve over people that don't even exist!"

"Your utter disregard for life is deplorable. And just where were you when all of this was happening?"

Solona rolled her eyes. "I was running around _this _cursed place, defeating the demons of each little…dimension, realm, whatever, until I finally found you. Just _think_ Wynne. Concentrate on only me and you'll realize that all of this is an illusion."

"Very well, I will do as you ask. Though I see little point…"

One of the apprentices rose. "Don't leave us Wynne!"

Wynne's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. "Holy Maker! Stay away foul creature!" She brought her staff out in front of her and cast an arcane bolt. As the other apprentices began attacking, Solona cast her favourite spell: virulent walking bomb. She followed up with flame blast, and the first apprentice exploded into a plethora of gore. The next apprentice was hit by the blood and guts, and promptly exploded as well. Soon entrails rained upon Solona and Wynne, and the apprentices were no more.

"None of it was real…and Solona…you used magic! Your powers are remarkable! How is it that you're able to—wait, where are you going?" Wynne faded away into nothingness, leaving Solona on her own once again.

She wandered over to the pedestal and chose the next island. At first she thought the island deserted, but soon happened upon Leliana praying before an alter while a revered mother watched. Solona let out an exasperated sigh. "Now's _really _not the time for prayers, Leliana."

Leliana paused in her chanting and glanced up at her, her features twisted in confusion. "Revered mother…who is this person?"

The old haggish demon masquerading as a Chantry priestess began chiding Solona. Little did the demon know, Solona hated ignorant and annoying Chantry zealots. Rather than convince Leliana that she was in the Fade, Solona simply cast winter's grasp to freeze the demon, then shattered it with a stone fist. The demon let out a decidedly inhuman cry as it perished.

"Holy Maker! That was a—"

"A demon, yes."

Leliana nodded. "Well, I believe we had some task to complete before…wait a minute, what…" Leliana disappeared just as Wynne had. Solona grumbled, doomed to solitude once again. She had one more companion to collect.

Alistair stood next to a red headed woman, and both were smiling at the children that ran about. Solona wandered up to him, one eyebrow raised.

"Hey, it's you! I was just thinking about you, isn't that a marvelous coincidence? I'd like you to meet my sister, Goldanna. These are her children…there are more running about somewhere…we're all just one big happy family," Alistair's expression was filled with such serenity that Solona wished nothing more than to destroy the sloth demon for taunting her friend with something he obviously desired so greatly. But…how should she play things with Alistair? She'd need to convince him it was all fake. The direct route seemed to make the most sense.

"She's a demon, you know."

Alistair chuckled warmly. "Oh that's what everyone says about their relatives, but really, Goldanna has a heart of…well, gold."

That was when the demon spoke. "I so enjoy having my little brother back!"

Solona's pinned the demon with a withering glare. "I just bet you do…" She turned to Alistair. Apparently directness wasn't working. "Alistair, none of this is real. It's all an illusion."

Alistair's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Alistair, will your friend be joining us for dinner?" demon Goldanna asked sweetly.

His eyes brightened and he held out his arms. "Say you'll stay? Goldanna is making her famous mince pie."

"No, I'm not staying Alistair, and neither should you," Solona said softly.

Alistair frowned. "You're acting really strangely." Solona froze…he would think her acting strangely, wouldn't he? Perhaps she could use this to her advantage.

"Alistair, what if I could prove to you that none of this was real?" she asked.

He shrugged a shoulder. "I'd be inclined to believe you, I suppose."

Solona grinned and took a step toward him. She took his hand in hers and gazed up into his eyes. "Even though I can't feel the majority of the time…those brief periods that I _can_ feel…I have to admit. You have quite an effect on me."

"I—I do?" Alistair spluttered.

"Of course. You're handsome, funny, sweet, compassionate…these are only a few traits I like about you."

"…You _like_ me? But Sol, you don't like anyone. You can't feel anything."

"I can feel here, I can feel in the Fade," Solona squeezed Alistair's hand gently and stood up on her tiptoes. She planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I know you probably don't feel anything for me, but I doubt this opportunity will happen again. Pretty soon we'll be back to fighting abominations in the Tower."

"Wait…I remember something…the Tower…the mages…blood magic, is that what happened?" Alistair asked.

"Yes! And we were sent into the Fade by a sloth demon."

Goldanna decided to interject at that point. "Alistair, stay with us. We'll have such a lovely time."

"I—don't think so. I don't feel quite right," he replied.

Solona tugged on his hand. "Then come with me."

"No! He is ours!" demon Goldanna bellowed. Several skeletons and zombies sprang into action, and the Wardens were outnumbered. Alistair unsheathed his sword.

"I don't know if I can take them all on, Sol," Alistair said worriedly.

Solona smiled. "Do you trust me?" Alistair nodded.

Solona murmured an incantation, and suddenly, Alistair was no longer able to move. He was momentarily terrified, until he realized that the arrows that the skeletons unleashed simply bounced off the telekinetic shield surrounding him. He wondered idly why Sol would choose to cast such a spell…that was until she held both of her hands in the air and began to chant. Flames began to first dance from her flesh, moving outward. The fire grew in intensity until a pillar of flame descended upon the demons and undead creatures. They screeched as they were set ablaze. Solona wasn't finished yet. Despite his immobile state, he could sense that she'd used most of her mana. That was when he saw her reach for the blade at the small of her back. He tried to cry out, to tell her such actions weren't necessary. But it was too late. She sliced into her forearm, and the blood seemed to take on a life of it's own. It crackled with electricity, and she drew upon the raw power it provided her. The undead creatures were almost destroyed. Solona let loose a final spell – tempest. Within seconds, their enemies were convulsing upon the ground. Sol glanced at Alistair and whispered something under her breath. He could move again. His muscles felt strange, tingly almost.

"That was…quite a performance," Alistair remarked. "But I seem to recall having you promise _not _to use blood magic?"

Solona smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I ran out of mana, and I have no lyrium potions…Forgive me?"

He sighed. "You're lucky you're so pretty, otherwise I'd have you put in the stocks."

Solona grinned wickedly. "I don't know, I might like that."

Alistair choked on his own saliva. "You would? Well, perhaps that…wait what's happening to me? Where are you going? Heeeeey!"

Solona growled. "Just when things were starting to get interesting…" She ventured to the final island…

For all its bluster, the sloth demon wasn't that difficult to defeat. Especially with Solona's added magics. It was a long battle to be sure, but nothing they couldn't handle. In the end, they were finally able to leave the Fade, after Niall instructed them to take the Litany off of his body.

Solona was once again enveloped in a shroud of darkness. When she awoke, she was lying on the floor of the Tower. She felt nothing.

**~*O*~*O*~**

Alistair, on the other hand, felt entirely too much. He remembered every aspect of the Fade. He remembered what Sol had told him, the way she'd looked at him…He sighed. If only that Sol were around all of the time. She'd seemed so incredibly sweet, and Maker, so very saucy. Just picturing her in the stocks…

"Alistair, from what Cullen has told us, the surviving mages are in the Harrowing chamber," Solona interrupted his chain of thought. The templar in question, Cullen, had gone from shame at the feelings he'd harboured for Sol, anger, and finally hatred. Alistair didn't trust him one bit. He was more than likely suffering from lyrium withdrawal. "I will read from the Litany, while the rest of you take part in any battle that will most assuredly ensue. Does that sound fair?" Everyone nodded. "Very well, our path is set."

The Harrowing chamber had been transformed into a make shift torture chamber for blood mages. The leader of the group was a squirrely man named Uldred. He addressed Sol with contempt. "Ah, if it isn't Irving's star pupil. Uldred didn't think much of you then, and I certainly don't think much of you now. Especially given your current…condition." He paused momentarily in his torture of the mages. "I could help you, you know. Teach you power beyond any you've ever seen."

"I am not interested. I think I will kill you instead," Solona replied.

"Don't forget the Litany," Wynne reminded. Uldred transformed into some sort of…insect ogre monster. Alistair wasn't entirely sure how to describe it. Instead of contemplating how one would render it in a painting, he began slashing at it with his longsword. Leliana stood several feet away, loosing arrow after arrow at incredible speeds. Wynne protected them all with a variety of spells, occasionally volleying an arcane bolt in Uldred's direction. Solona darted back and forth while reciting the Litany. At one point, Uldred lashed out with his foot and it connected with Sol's abdomen. She let out a grunt of pain, yet continued her chant. Alistair saw the injury, but was too focused on fighting Uldred to help his friend. He hoped that Wynne had noticed the blood that had begun to soak through her tunic, dying the mulberry a deeper shade of crimson. Alistair's adrenaline was pumping. He knew that Uldred was weakening. He leapt upon the abomination, sword drawn. The blade sliced into Uldred's throat, straight into the monster's jugular. The back spray was staggering, though he supposed he shouldn't have expected any less from such a large creature. Alistair leapt off of Uldred's chest and rushed over to Solona. She had managed to spare the other mages of any further mind domination. Though she looked even pastier than usual. Alistair could hardly believe that in such close combat, he'd sustained nary an injury, yet Solona, who'd barely been in the fray, was now suffering a mortal wound. Alistair glanced at Wynne, who was leaning over Sol. "Well? Aren't you going to heal her?"

Wynne pursed her lips. "I am a powerful healer…but I'm afraid that she's lost too much blood…she's far too weak…"

Alistair growled. "I won't accept that," He reached down, running his fingers through Sol's hair. "Remember what you did in the Fade? The thing I said I'd send you to the stocks for?"

Solona nodded weakly.

"I'm taking you somewhere, and you're going to perform magic," he leaned in to whisper into her ear. "I know there's a spell that can draw the life force of another to replenish the caster…I haven't sustained any injuries…take mine."

Solona shook her head. "Alistair, you forget, I am Tranquil, I cannot cast magic."

"Bull! I've seen you do weird things like that before!" He lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He carried her to a secluded spot in the chamber, and gestured for Leliana to distract the other people in the room. She took the cue and began to prattle on about their adventures in the Tower. Satisfied they were being ignored, Alistair gazed down at Solona. "Take part of my life force."

"Alistair, I cannot. I am Tranq-"

He grabbed the dirk he kept in his boot and cut at the palm of her hand. Solona inhaled sharply, Alistair watched her with some degree of trepidation. He was taking a big risk. Suddenly, Solona's eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed. "Bastard!" she hissed.

"Do it, now!" Alistair ordered. Solona grunted and muttered softly. Tears were pouring down her cheeks as she chanted. Alistair felt his body weaken. It was as though the energy was being sapped from him at an alarming pace. Just as quickly as it started, the sensation ceased. He didn't feel as great as he had earlier, but at least some colour had returned to Solona's cheeks. He brought her wounded palm to his lips and kissed away the blood. "I knew that the Fade might still have a bit of a hold on you…I was hoping it was enough to cast just one last spell."

Solona stared at him in the stoic manner she almost always did. "It was dangerous. We should have never done it."

"If you think I'm going to let you go that easily, woman, you've got another thing coming," Alistair grinned.

Solona shifted onto her feet. "Yes, well…I must speak with the First Enchanter. We need our allies, and we need them to help Connor."

Alistair dropped into an exaggerated bow. "Lead the way, my lady."

She glanced over her shoulder at him one last time before heading toward the First Enchanter. After assisting him down to the main entrance of the Tower, he agreed to provide allies for the Blight, and also promised to travel to Redcliffe as soon as possible. The Wardens also gained another ally by way of Wynne. Alistair wasn't about to complain. The group needed a gifted healer, and Wynne seemed a good sort. They all decided to rent rooms at the Spoiled Princess before departing in the morning. Luckily, Carroll, the templar who'd been giving them a hard time in allowing them passage on the way to the Tower, had no qualms with escorting them to the other side of the lake. Alistair was mildly disappointed that Solona didn't opt for another swim.

That would have been the perfect end to their day.


	9. Truth, Lies and Consequences

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age. I own a letter opener.

**A/N**: Once again, thank you to all of those who've read and reviewed. It makes my day to see that little message pop up in my inbox saying that I have a new review, or that someone has favourited/alerted. Simple things please me!

**Warning: **This chapter has descriptions of abuse. You've been warned.

* * *

_Loneliness is not a phase_

_Field of pain is where I graze_

_Serenity is far away_

_~Angry Chair - Alice in Chains~_

Alistair trudged up the stairs to his rooms at the Spoiled Princess. With all of the loot they'd collected in the Tower, each party member was able to bunk in their own chamber. As he ventured down the hall, he noticed that one of the doors was wide open. Solona stood with her back to him. She was changing into a chemise, but before she pulled the garment over her shoulders, he was able to see various puckered scars running along the length of her back. At first glance, he thought that the scars were a result of her blood magic, but he soon realized that she would never be able to maneuver herself to reach such awkward positions. He wondered how she'd sustained the injuries. Life in the Tower surely didn't lend itself to such violence. Also, from the brief moment he'd seen the marks, he knew that they were no mere surface injuries. Some were an angry shade of red, despite the fact that they obviously weren't sustained recently. Realizing that he'd been staring at her (once again), Alistair politely cleared his throat to alert Solona of his presence. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded to acknowledge him.

"You know, you really shouldn't change into your bedclothes with the door wide open. Especially when you're staying at an inn with Maker knows how many rowdy perverts," Alistair chided lightly.

Solona adjusted her chemise. "And yet you are the only person to disturb me while I was in a state of undress. One can draw only two conclusions: you are wrong in your assessment of the situation, or you are guilty of being a rowdy pervert."

Alistair laughed even though he knew that Solona was not trying to be funny in the least. "Well, given the options, I suppose I'll take the former."

"Was there something you needed?"

Alistair shifted uncomfortably. "No, I was just heading for my room and I noticed that your door was open." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, contemplating whether or not to question her about what he'd seen. "Those scars on your back…what are they from?"

"I do not think it wise to discuss it with you," she replied.

Alistair frowned, his brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"Your earlier reaction to Greagoir's treatment of me would suggest that if I were to further describe his actions, you might very well lose control of your anger. We do not need such distractions. We have a Blight to conquer."

He stiffened. "Greagoir did that to you?"

"As I said, I do not think it wise-"

"I don't bloody well care what you think is _wise_. Just _what_ did that sick son of a bitch do to you?" Alistair's voice was low and menacing. If Solona knew fear, she would have experienced it in that moment.

"I fail to see any reason in persisting in this line of questioning," Solona remarked evenly.

"Because. I. Want. To. Know." Alistair said through clenched teeth.

Solona clasped her hands in front of her. "Very well, if you insist. The Knight-Commander grew weary of punishing me by normal means. He found no satisfaction in having me wash soiled linens, or dust the library shelves. Eventually he called me into his office for his own brand of private punishments. It was minor at first, and the infractions I was being punished for were always weak at best. Studying past curfew, taking too long to finish meals, assisting other apprentices in their spellcasting. Regardless, he looked for any reason to call me into his quarters. First he would slap me across my forearms with a ruler. He ceased doing so, however, when it became obvious that the marks he left were visible to others. Instead, he chose an area where no one would normally look. My back, and my behind. He knew that he could be more vicious in his beatings, and soon I graduated from a ruler to a riding crop. For days following one of his punishments I was barely able to sit through class, the pain was unbearable. But I slowly grew accustomed to the crop. When he started using a flail, I knew his obsession with causing me pain had surpassed even his own expectations. He experimented with the flail on two occasions. I believe the flail left the worst scarring, as it tore the flesh from my bones. Since these sessions were private, I was unable to seek out a healer. Instead, Greagoir sutured my wounds manually, hence the terrible scars. I believe after that final incident, Greagoir realized that no amount of physical torture would purify his desire of me. He began to take me in a more intimate manner. From what I recall, it was not pleasing. He did everything in his power to ensure that I felt nothing but shame. This went on for a year, right up until my Harrowing. And then Duncan came to visit the Tower…I suppose you know the rest."

"I appreciate you telling me this," Alistair ground out. "I'm sure it was difficult."

Solona shook her head. "No, not difficult. I simply did not see the point in telling you."

Alistair nodded stiffly. "All the same, thank you. I'd best let you get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow."

Solona nodded. "That we do. I had planned on leaving at dawn. Do you think it too early for our companions?"

"What?" Alistair snapped irritably. "No, no of course not. We'll leave at dawn. Whatever you say."

Solona's gaze swept over her fellow Warden. "Your demeanor. It has changed. Did my story have that much of an effect on you? It should not have. If it does not bother me, it should not bother you. To live in the past is pointless. We must concentrate on the future."

Alistair shot a cold glance in her direction. "I guess we just don't see things the same way. At any rate, I need to leave. Maybe a bit of fresh air will do me some good."

"Perhaps," Solona conceded. "Do not stay out too long, you will also need your rest for tomorrow."

Alistair had to stifle a dark chuckle at her comment. "No rest for the wicked…"

**~*O*~*O*~**

When he arrived at Lake Calanhad docks, he fully expected to see that insipid templar whose name he later discovered was Carroll. Instead, an older man named Kester had taken charge of ferrying passengers to and from Kinloch Hold. He didn't give Alistair any trouble whatsoever, and soon Alistair found himself within the ruins of the Circle Tower. He flagged down the nearest templar and asked where he would be able to find the Knight-Commander.

"Should be in his office," the templar replied. "He usually is around this time, it's when the templars can come and visit him and offer up their concerns and so on."

Alistair gave an appreciative smile. "Wonderful. Where can I find his office?" The templar gave him directions, and he was off. After a few flights of stairs, he was facing a pair of large wooden doors. He resisted the urge to pound on the door, reminding himself that he would at least try to be civil. He tapped on the wood and awaited a response.

"Enter," came Greagoir's gruff voice.

Alistair swept into the room, firmly shutting the door behind him. He took in Greagoir's sparsely furnished office. There were no personal touches, only a large wooden desk and a bookshelf filled with various ancient texts. Templar techniques no doubt. Alistair wondered idly where the man kept his torture devices, until his gaze fell upon an ornate strongbox discreetly standing in the far corner of the Knight-Commander's office. Alistair felt his heart rate increase.

"Warden," Greagoir drawled. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Or does your order often intrude upon other people's time?"

"No, I just came by to ask you a few questions," Alistair stopped just short of Greagoir's desk, his fists resting on the ash wood surface. "What exactly happened between you and Solona? What are those scars all over her back?"

From what Alistair could see, Greagoir grew alarmed at the mention of Solona, but the expression soon passed and his lips pursed into a grim line. "She was beyond our control, constantly flouting the rules. I'll admit, we did resort to rather…extreme punishments…but at the time, we felt we had no choice. She showed great promise as a mage, but her behavioural issues were deplorable. If I had the chance to go back and do things over…perhaps I would have been less harsh."

Alistair's eyes flashed. "You keep saying 'we'. Do you mean to say that there were more involved in her torture?"

"Torture?" Greagoir repeated incredulously. "I'll admit the methods were unorthodox, but they were a far cry from torture. To answer your question, the First Enchanter was present during the punishments."

"The-the First Enchanter? Was he involved in the…sexual abuse as well?"

The Knight-Commander's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "What? Andraste's _mercy_, who told you she endured that kind of abuse?"

"She did, of course!" Alistair replied heatedly. "She told me all about your need to purge yourself of the demon that tempted you, making you use her body in ways that-"

"Silence!" Greagoir roared. "I assure you, I never laid a finger on the girl with that sort of intent. Maker's breath, I don't even desire wom-" his mouth clamped shut and his cheeks flamed in embarrassment.

Alistair frowned. He ran his fingers through his hair exasperatedly. "Then why did she lie?"

"I have already told you of her behavioural issues."

"But she's Tranquil! You made sure of that. Is she even capable of lying?" Alistair wondered out loud.

"I doubt it. Though anything is possible," Greagoir shrugged.

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "That still doesn't explain those hideous scars on her back. She said that you refused to allow a healer to tend to the wounds, and that you used a flail on her. Is that part true?"

Greagoir winced. "As I said, I am not proud of what I did. At the time, I thought it necessary. She was at a high risk of being possessed by a demon."

"You took a young woman and beat her mercilessly, rending the flesh from her bones, and you thought you were _helping_ her? You disgust me," he spat.

"How you feel is of no concern to me. I will answer to the Maker for my actions. Meanwhile, I have sent a group of templars to the inn you are staying at to collect Warden Amell. She must undergo the Rite once again. As you are no doubt aware, the effects are temporary. She will be returned to you at dawn," Greagoir stood, signaling the end of their meeting.

"What?" Alistair sputtered. "You can't do that! You have no jurisdiction over her! She's a Grey Warden, not a ward of the Chantry. You have no right!"

"Be that as it may, I must fulfill my duty to the Maker, and it is His will to have that girl cut off from her powers. I am doing her, and you, a favour."

Alistair heard the blood rushing through his head. He felt the deep thrum of his pulse, felt every nerve ending screaming at him to act. Memories of Solona invaded his senses. The chaste kiss she'd placed on his cheek in the Fade during her moment of lucidity. The being that possessed her, no doubt as a result of her Tranquil nature. The horrors she had endured. The passionate woman that had been beaten for no other reason than being different. The sight of her mutilated flesh. Alistair's nostrils flared. The edges of his vision grew red, casting the room in a crimson hue. A sharp sensation penetrated his guts and spread outward through his body. Rage. His thoughts were muddled. He was certain of one thing, and one thing only: the man in front of him needed to die. He needed to bleed. The furious cry that tore free of Alistair's throat was none he'd ever voiced. He was no longer aware of his actions. He simply fed on the blood lust. He felt and heard bones cracking, unsure if they were his enemy's, or his own. The metallic scent of copper permeated the air. He heard himself grunting like an animal. As quickly as the chaos began, it came to an end. Though the rage had abated, he still felt fuzzy, and was unable to move. It took several minutes for his faculties to return to him.

"Fool!" hissed a voice from behind him. "I came in search of you to inform you that we had to flee the inn and set up camp in the wilderness. Had I known you were in the midst of making our situation even more dire, I would have left you to rot at the hands of the templars."

Alistair turned and saw Morrigan standing before him, her arms folded over her chest and a scowl painted on her dainty features.

"What the-what happened?" Alistair glanced down at Greagoir's bruised and bloodied form.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "You snapped and attacked him. 'Tis a pity you did not kill him."

"So—he's not dead?" he chewed on his lower lip anxiously. He was horrified at the carnage he'd caused. He'd never before lost control like that.

"He will live. Though I suggest we leave immediately, lest more of his kind decide to visit and discover their leader in such a state."

Alistair nodded numbly. "Yes…good idea," he paused. "How did you get in here, anyway?"

"Through the window," she replied, flipping her hand dismissively. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered you beating this man senseless. I was going to leave you to finish him, but soon realized that you had gone berserk. I thought it best to stun you until you came to your senses."

"Oh," he replied lamely.

"Enough of this talk," Morrigan snapped. "We must leave, _now_. I shall meet you on the shores of Lake Calanhad. I commandeered the boat after that fool Kester ferried me across. Our camp is not far from the inn, but far enough to evade the templars."

"Sounds like you have it all figured out," Alistair muttered.

Morrigan shot him a sardonic smile. "One of us must make use of our brain from time to time. Apparently that task often falls to me. Now, off we go before the Tower swallows us up."


	10. Another Kind of Insight

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age. I own a cool new miniature tree. I forget what it's called...it's Japanese, but not a Bonzai tree...help me out here, Nat!

**A/N: **At the end.

* * *

Take me into your arms I need to rest

_Rest my head against your chest_

_Stop me from drifting _

_It feels like I'm fading away, away_

_~Unforgiving Hours – Drain S.T.H.~_

Leliana bit her lower lip. Her head and her heart were at odds, battling over what she wanted to believe, and the cold, harsh reality of what was. A myriad of emotions coursed through her. The betrayal she'd suffered at her bard master's hands was at the top of the list. She also felt shame at not having warned Solona about her past, which left her completely unprepared for the mercenary attack they'd endured once they'd escaped the Spoiled Princess. By all accounts Solona didn't appear to be upset with her, but that was hardly surprising considering she was never upset about _anything_. Leliana knew she owed her friend an explanation for the attack, and she knew she would have to confess the sins she'd committed in her prior life. The bard sighed and got to her feet. She crossed the camp and headed toward Solona's tent, suddenly eager to confess and have it over and done with. If the Tranquil woman asked Leliana to leave upon learning the truth, she would not hold it against her. As she approached the Warden's tent, she noticed a soft glow emanating from inside. Although it was dangerous to use lanterns inside the tents, the travellers often had little choice when they sought the solitude of their tiny canvas lodgings.

"Solona?" Leliana called out softly. "Are you awake in there?" When she heard no reply, she lifted back one of the flaps and found the tent empty. "Strange…" Leliana muttered idly. She was about to turn tail and leave when curiosity got the better of her. Perhaps it was all of her years as a bard that fed her desire to snoop. Or perhaps she simply wished to get a better understanding of their leader. A leader who reminded Leliana of sensations she'd long since abandoned. Whatever the reason, she crawled into Solona's tent, examining the sparse décor. At first glance, Leliana was immediately aware of the fact that Solona was compulsively organized. All of her possessions were stored in neat little sacks and boxes. There was but one anomaly in the entire tent, and it was poking out from underneath Solona's pillow. Leliana reached out and plucked the book from its hiding spot. It was bound in doeskin, and held intricate designs on the front cover. She flipped the cover open and was astonished to discover that the book was in fact a journal. She'd had no idea that the Warden would have any desire to keep track of her adventures, yet here was the evidence, plain as day. The bard frowned, however, when she discovered that there were only three entries. She read the first.

_I am unsure as to how one is meant to begin a journal entry. The apprentices seem to believe that "Dear Journal" is appropriate. I, on the other hand, find speaking to an inanimate object completely ludicrous. Instead, I will simply begin._

_The First Enchanter insisted I keep this journal, detailing my new life as a Tranquil. I see little point, but I will humour him just the same. It has been one week since I underwent my Rite, and I do believe that I am adjusting to the change with relative ease. _

_I occasionally watch the apprentices. __Some laugh at me. I no longer mind._

_Once upon a time, I studied as they did. I learned under the tutelage of an enchanter and attempted to master the art of bending magic to my will, and I did well enough, too well according to some. I saw the way the enchanter looked at me, the sidelong glances of worry and fear. While other apprentices were conjuring fire to light the fireplaces, __I__ was conjuring the deadliest of fireballs, and they were larger than those of my tutor. I remember taking great pride in this, while the more senior mages observed in blatant disapproval. _

_I was __fascinated by magic. When I was a girl, my grandmother regaled me with tales of the enigmatic Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds. She told me of demons, and how they were drawn to the dreams of those who possessed magic like moths to a flame. She told me all these things because, she said, the talent ran in our family's blood, and that I might need to learn to harness my will in order to defeat these demons of the Fade. _

_And so it ran in mine. All my young life I had __dreamt of it, wishing on every star that I was gifted. Deep in my heart, I knew that I was. When the templars came to our home, I knew._

_I remember thinking that the mages' tower was horrible, full of silly rules and Chantry zealots. The templars glared at me as if I could spring full into an abomination before their very eyes._

_Then my Harrowing came at last, my final test. Face a demon, they said, or submit to the Rite of Tranquility. They would sever my connection to the Fade, and thus I would never dream and no demon could ever touch me-but I would also be unable to do magic, and I would n__ever feel an emotion ever again. A life without love, lust, anger and hope? The idea sickened me, so my choice was easy. Unfortunately, even though my Harrowing was a success, the Knight-Commander saw fit to make me Tranquil anyway._

_It was not so painful.__ At least, not physically. _

_S._

Leliana was saddened at how quickly and easily the Circle had snuffed out the passion of a young woman who was obviously so very talented. All because they feared what she might become, not what she actually was. Leliana always had the deepest of respect for mages, and found Solona's description of her treatment in the Tower quite disturbing. That the Chantry could be so bigoted…She shook her head, moving to the next entry. This entry had been written since Solona had become a Grey Warden. She didn't know why she was so certain of this, but she knew it to be true. As she read the first lines, her eyes widened considerably.

_I believe I can see the future because I repeat the same routine. I think I used to have a purpose, but then again that might have been a dream. I think I used to have a voice, now I never make a sound. I just do what I've been told because I don't want them to come around. Every day is exactly the same, there is no love here and there is no pain. I can feel their eyes are watching in case I lose myself again. Sometimes I think I'm happy here…sometimes, yet I still pretend. I can't remember how this got started, but I can tell you exactly how it will end. I'm writing on a little piece of paper, I'm hoping someday you might find. I'll hide it behind something they won't look behind. I'm still inside here and a little bit comes bleeding through. I wish this could have been any other way but I just don't know…I don't know what else I can do._

_E&S._

Leliana's heart wept as the words played over through her head. There was pain _and _indifference in the entry, entwined in a dance that would surely drive a lesser person insane. Based on the signature, Leliana could only infer that the entry had been written at a time when both Eziel and Solona were conscious. Was such a thing possible? Could they both come forward at the same time? The result, if this journal entry was anything to go by, was a creature of extreme duplicitous nature. She feared that if Solona were to remain in such a state for any extended period of time, she would surely tear herself apart from the inside out. She flipped the page to the third and final entry. The ink was still damp and had smeared on the opposite page.

_I can smell the death on your flesh- creeping in._

__

Trapped within the twisting fingers of fear and all I see is you.

That face, those eyes…burning like leprosy.

I can see you there, poisoning the air and I want to attack…to rip out your heart and lay you flat on your back and vomit a world of agony and truth into your throbbing illness of memory.

... and hate guides our way.

I long for the icy slap of a belt across my back, for the acceptance of death and blind cave war.

_The giving sleep of depression and the sweet elucidation of savage, meaningless aggression._

_I am not alone in this._

__

- Guard the houses  
- Triple the watch  
- Maidens, dig up your sorcery  
- Sirens, sharpen your rocks.

... You will eat my pain again

_Whatever you need, unite in __me__._

_E._

A shudder ran down Leliana's spine. The insane ramblings of Eziel were unsettling, to say the least. She supposed that she oughtn't be surprised, considering her conduct during their attempt to save Connor and Bann Teagan. But holy Maker…anyone capable of writing _this_ was surely fit to be locked in the darkest dungeon.

Despite the disgust that Leliana felt in reading Eziel's passage, she couldn't help but feel something else…something entirely inappropriate. Something long hidden, deep within the dark recesses of her soul, tucked away in an oubliette…

"You really shouldn't read someone else's private thoughts."

Leliana squeaked and shoved the journal to its original hiding spot underneath the pillow. She spun around and came face to face with Solona. The bard's mouth opened and shut several times. She was unable to come up with anything that would explain away her precarious position. Instead, she opted for an apology. "I am truly sorry, Solona. I have no excuse for reading your journal. My curiosity got the better of me…" Her gaze dropped to the ground, unable to look Solona in the eye. She heard the tell-tale sound of Solona crouching down in front of her. The Tranquil woman lifted Leliana's chin with her index finger, meeting her gaze head on.

"Were you frightened by what you read?" Solona asked.

Leliana gazed into the obsidian depths of her friend's eyes. She sensed as well as saw the dark desire that swam in those orbs. Leliana licked her lips before replying. "I was frightened at first…but then…"

"Then?"

"I'm not sure what I felt…it wasn't right, that's all I know. It was…primal. Something I haven't experienced since…" Leliana's voice wavered.

Solona leaned forward, her lips brushing against Leliana's ear. "There is nothing wrong with succumbing to your baser desires, my lovely songbird. In fact, I've been known to encourage such behaviour…"

Leliana's eyelids fluttered. "You aren't Solona, are you?"

"No," she whispered. "Come outside by the fire. I will re-braid your hair and help you to relax. You must be very upset after that encounter with those horrid mercenaries."

"That would be…that sounds wonderful…thank you, Eziel."

"Think nothing of it," Eziel murmured. She took Leliana by the hand and led her out by the fire. Leliana saw a brush and several leather hair thongs resting on top of a wool blanket. The pair sat on the blanket with the bard sitting between Eziel's legs. She sighed with contentment as she felt the long comforting strokes of the brush running through her hair.

"Will you tell me now of your adventures as a bard?" Eziel asked softly.

Leliana's shoulders stiffened. "I never told you about that. How did you know?"

Eziel chuckled. "I know many things, sweeting. I know of Marjolaine. I know of her betrayal. I know that underneath it all, you long to see her dead, or in your bed once again."

Eziel's words cut Leliana to the core. Though as much as the statement hurt, she knew it to be the truth. "I loved Marjolaine very much, but I do not think I could ever forgive her for the injustice she caused me. I almost hate her for it."

Eziel continued to run the brush through Leliana's hair. "What is that tired adage? There is a thin line between love and hate? I suppose it applies in this case." She set the brush aside and began to massage Leliana's scalp with her fingertips. The bard let out a soft sigh.

"I don't know if I should ignore this attempt on my life…or confront her," she could hear her voice becoming thick and languid from Eziel's ministrations. She was suddenly deeply relaxed, a state which she would have thought impossible to be in an hour ago.

"You cannot let her actions go unpunished. Marjolaine must know where you stand," Eziel carefully braided Leliana's hair, making sure not to tug too tightly. "Would it make you feel better to recite the Chant? Perhaps it will lend you strength."

"You would…chant…with me?" Leliana asked bewilderedly.

Eziel smiled. "Of course, sweeting. I would do anything for you. Now, where shall we start? Oh…I know. _Maker, my enemies are abundant/Many are those who rise up against me/But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion/Should they set themselves against me._"

Leliana continued the Chant, her voice soft and lilting. "_Though all before me is shadow/Yet shall the Maker be my guide/I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond…_"

**~*O*~*O*~**

Alistair was unsure of just how he should approach Solona. He felt angry with her, though he wasn't sure if he was justified in his ire, considering the fact that Greagoir could very well have been lying when he proclaimed his innocence. Besides, even if he hadn't abused Solona sexually, there was still the physical torture that she had endured, and that alone would have been enough to have any other man strung up.

He followed Morrigan, who'd shifted to her bear form to ward off any unwelcome animals and thus facilitate their travel. While some were put off by Morrigan's shapeshifting abilities, Alistair actually preferred it when she turned into an animal. It meant she wouldn't be able to talk to him. As they approached the camp, the witch morphed into her human form and wandered over to her tent. Alistair, on the other hand, was rooted in place. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

There, by the fire, was Leliana, sitting between Solona's legs. Solona was playing with Leliana's hair while pressing kisses along her jaw. They both seemed absorbed with one another, and when Alistair finally managed to regain his ability to walk, he could have sworn that he heard Leliana whispering verses from the Chant of Light. When Solona dipped her head lower to nip at Leliana's neck, Alistair couldn't stand to watch any longer.

"So sorry to interrupt you ladies, but I was wondering if Solona could spare a few moments of her time?" his arms were folded across his chest and his lips were turned down into a frown.

Leliana still seemed somewhat dazed, while Solona rolled her eyes at him. She murmured a single word to Leliana while making a sweeping gesture with her right hand. "_Sleep_." Leliana's eyes immediately fell shut and her chin dropped to her chest. Solona gingerly lowered her down onto her back, taking great pains to make sure the Chantry sister was sleeping comfortably. She finally got to her feet and sauntered over to Alistair. "What is it?"

Alistair blinked several times. "Did you just cast a spell on Leliana?"

"Yes, what of it?"

His arms dropped to his sides. "Eziel."

Eziel grinned broadly. "In the flesh. Now, tell me what you wanted. You were interrupting an intimate moment."

"There are several problems with this whole scenario. The first being, what were you doing kissing Leliana? Since when have the two of you been intimate? Secondly, when did you learn to cast spells?"

"My my, do I detect a note of jealousy? Your darling Solona may only have eyes for you, but my tastes are far broader than that. I happen to enjoy both you and Leliana, for entirely different reasons of course," her dark eyes glinted mischievously. "As for your other query, I've always been able to cast spells. Remember when I pegged that Revenant with a flaming bolt? Magic, of course."

Alistair was flabbergasted. "Why haven't you said anything before? We could have used that information, you know. You could have shown us just how easily you can wield magic."

Eziel smirked. "That's much too vulgar a display of power."

"Look, I really need to talk to Solona, can you please get her out here?"

Eziel tilted her head to one side. "Why?"

"Because…because I just came back from the Tower, and I spoke with the Knight-Commander," he replied.

"And?"

Alistair sighed. "And according to him, he and Solona were never intimate."

"And you believe him?" Eziel raised an eyebrow.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I'm not sure what to believe at this point. I just wanted to…clarify things with her."

"I don't think that's a good idea. We both know she's incapable of lying. That leaves two options: she actually _was_ carrying on with the Knight-Commander, or she believes with every fibre of her being that she did. Either way, if you question her on this, it could prove disastrous. She's come very far since she underwent the Rite. Don't do anything to jeopardize that progress," Eziel placed her hands on her ample hips and fixed Alistair with a hard stare.

"I…I guess you're right. Maybe I just need to get some sleep."

Eziel nodded. "Good idea. I'll take first watch. Sten's offered to take second, Leliana third. You'll be able to get a full night's rest tonight. You should feel nice and refreshed by morning."

"_You're _taking first watch?" Alistair asked incredulously.

"Well, Solona is. Either way, this body is the first one on guard," she said while indicating her figure.

Alistair flushed and headed for his tent. "Alright then. I'll see you…when I see you. Good night."

Eziel lips curved into a wicked smile as she watched his retreating form. "Good night, sweet prince."

**~*O*~*O*~**

"Oh help! Somebody please! Maker, there's been an ambush!"

Solona halted and took in the woman's dishevelled appearance. She _did _appear to have been in a fight, but her tone…it was quite obvious that she was lying. Solona weighed her options: call the woman out on her lies, or see what she had planned. Logic dictated that they were about to walk into a trap, yet some unknown force tugged at Solona, urging her to follow the woman. "Where is this ambush?"

"This way!" the woman cried. Solona and her group followed the woman. They had set out at dawn just as Solona had ordered, and were approximately a mile away from the outskirts of Redcliffe. That was when they were interrupted by the terrible actress posing as a damsel in distress. As they rounded the bend, Solona saw the woman stride up to an elven man in fine leather armour. She nodded to him, and took on a battle stance behind him. The elf motioned with his hand and suddenly several heavily armed men and women appeared from various hiding spots. Solona heard a loud cracking sound. She whipped around and saw a tree that was about to crush her and her entire party. They dodged it in the nick of time. The elf unsheathed his daggers. "The Grey Warden dies here!"

The ensuing battle was gruelling, to say the least. Solona discharged nearly all of her arrows. Morrigan's mana had been depleted to the point of empty, and Alistair's shield was practically broken in two. The rest of the group didn't fare much better. Luckily, they bested the team of hooligans, and tied up the elf, who was obviously their leader. Solona stood over him and nudged him with her boot. He stirred and woke, his eyes bleary from what was probably a mild concussion.

"Mmmm…what? I rather thought I would wake up dead…or not at all, whatever the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet."

"We thought we might torture you first," Alistair snarled.

"Ohhh, so you kept me around to have a bit of fun, did you?" The elf's gaze remained focused on Solona, who, for her part, continued to stare at him impassively. "But the purpose behind torture is usually to interrogate, yes? In that case, despite the potential for fun... perhaps I'll save you a bit of time and get right to the point. My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens…Which I have failed at, sadly."

"Who hired you to kill us?" Solona asked.

"A rather taciturn fellow in the capital…I believe his name was Loghain," Zevran replied.

"I see."

"If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, I have a proposition for you," the elf smiled.

Solona inclined her head, signalling for him to continue.

"Well, here's the thing," Zevran began. "I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. The thing is I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you instead."

Alistair let out a bark of laughter. "You must think she's royally stupid."

"I think she's royally tough to kill, and utterly gorgeous," the elf smiled lasciviously at Solona. Solona gave no indication of any sort of reaction, which threw the elf for a loop. "Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery," he quickly added.

"I don't respond to any sort of flattery," Solona responded stoically.

Zevran chuckled. "I never back down from a challenge."

Solona regarded the elf with her cool gaze. "What skills do you possess?"

"I am adept with poisons, I can pick locks, and should the Crows decide to try and finish the job, I can keep an eye out. I know how they work, you see. Or, I could just stand around and look pretty, fend off unwanted suitors, warm your bed?" he waggled his eyebrows.

"My bed is warm enough as it is. It does not require another's presence to add to its warmth. Otherwise, it would be stifling."

Zevran was out of his element. His charms weren't working in the least. "I'll even shine armour! You won't find a better deal anywhere, I swear."

"Very well, you may join us," Solona announced.

"_What_? We're bringing the _assassin _with us now? Do you really think that's a good idea?" Alistair cried.

"We may find him useful. Besides, if he tries anything, I will slit his throat."

Alistair's shoulders sagged in resignation. "Alright, alright I see your point. Still, if there was ever a sign we were desperate I think it just knocked on the door and said 'hello'."

Solona untied the assassin's ropes and helped him to his feet.

"I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation; this I swear." Zevran bowed and smiled at Solona.

Alistair scowled.

**~*O*~*O*~**

When they arrived at Castle Redcliffe, the First Enchanter had already arrived along with several mages. Bann Teagan and Isolde stood off to one side, both sporting worried expressions.

"The mages are ready and we have plenty of lyrium," the First Enchanter announced. "Now, who will be going into the Fade?"

"I will," Solona replied.

Irving frowned. "But child, you cannot enter the Fade. You are one of the Tranquil."

"I realize that, First Enchanter. However, after participating in the Joining, something changed. I am now able to enter the Fade. I can also wield magic while I am there as well."

"I see," Irving said with some degree of uncertainty. "I shan't argue with you. We will begin the ritual immediately."

Solona nodded, and the mages circled around her. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was once again in the Fade.

She shook violently at the familiar sensation of emotions assaulting her, only this time she didn't feel as though her head was about to explode. Tears ran down her cheeks and her stomach clenched. The feeling passed much faster this time around. When she felt well enough, she tested out her abilities by summoning a spell wisp. The magic came to her easily. Satisfied that she was prepared to face the demon that held Connor captive, Solona began to explore the area. Everywhere she looked she saw the Arl's son. His form was always made up of mist, but the end result was still uncanny. She happened upon Arl Eamon at one point, who was completely belligerent for the most part. She knew she didn't have time to convince him of his situation, so she continued on in her quest to find the demon. Eventually, she found Connor, this time made up of what seemed to be flesh and bone. They exchanged words, but apparently Solona pissed him off and he transformed into a desire demon. Solona bested the demon easily and passed through a nearby portal to enter another section of the Fade. She was again forced to deal with the demon disguised as Connor, and fought the creature when she refused to give in to its ridiculous paranoia. This happened twice more, until finally the demon saw fit to speak with her without the disguise.

"Very well, no more illusions," the demon purred. "I face you in my true form. I am at my strongest here, yet I have no desire to do battle with you. Perhaps we could…converse instead?"

Solona folded her arms over her chest. "Alright, talk."

"You wish me to leave the boy, do you not? So that you can have the father? I propose a deal. I leave the boy for a time, and will return much later to uphold the contract he made with me. This would be long after you have achieved your goals."

Solona snorted derisively. "You'd have to give me something pretty extraordinary to convince me of letting that happen."

The demon smiled seductively. "I can offer many things…knowledge…power…lust…"

"All of which I could attain by myself. I'm afraid I'm not convinced, so if you're quite finished-"

"There is something else I can offer you…" the desire demon leaned in and whispered into Solona's ear. Solona's eyes widened.

"Very well, demon. You have yourself a deal."

The demon ran her hands over Solona, her tongue darted out of her mouth and grazed the length of Solona's cheek. "I wish you well, dear mortal."

**~*O*~*O*~**

"I think she's coming to," Alistair murmured. He watched as Solona's eyelids fluttered open. She blinked several times to familiarize herself with her surroundings. Alistair had insisted that they place her in the most comfortable guest room available, and Teagan was only too happy to comply. The woman had saved his nephew, after all. Alistair squeezed Solona's hand gently. The First Enchanter was present. He wanted to ensure that she suffered no ill effects from her journey into the Fade.

"How do you feel, child?" Irving implored.

Solona glanced in his direction. "I am well, First Enchanter."

"Good. I see that your quest was a success. Connor is free of the demon's hold, and the undead that once stalked the city are gone," Irving informed her. "I will be departing immediately for the Tower. They need me there, and Wynne is here to see to your recovery."

"Very well," Solona replied evenly. Irving smiled at her before leaving Alistair and Solona alone in the room.

Alistair cleared his throat. "Well, I'm glad you're alright, I was starting to worry-"

Solona threw back her coverlets and let out an exasperated sigh. "Andraste's ass, I thought he was never going to leave!"

"Wh-what?" Alistair goggled. "Eziel, is that you?"

"No, of course not, silly," Solona smiled indulgently. "Looks like that trip to the Fade didn't just benefit Connor."

"What are you talking about?"

She hopped off the bed and stretched out her limbs. "That stupid desire demon. She actually managed to do something useful."

Alistair eyed her warily. "What did she do?"

"What do you think?" Solona beamed. "She reversed the Rite." With a flick of her wrist, Solona froze an entire bookshelf, encasing the wood in a layer of ice. She turned to Alistair and grinned devilishly. "It's good to be back."

* * *

**A/N: **The first journal entry is based on the "Journal of the Tranquil" in the DA codex, with some slight tweaking. The second entry is _Every Day is Exactly the Same_ by Nine Inch Nails. The third entry is _Thots _by Otep.


	11. Surreal Surroundings

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age I own...a new kitty named Oscar! Eep Oscar! Get off my keyboarjfdklsanfjsdal;fdn.

**A/N: **Okay fellow Teagan fans, I apologize in advance for his caddish behaviour here. It was to serve a higher purpose! Thanks so much to all who have read, reviewed, fave'd, alerted, etc. I will send you all a basket of goodies for your support!

* * *

_I will tear the petals off of you_

_Rose-red I will make you tell the truth_

_Was she asking for it?_

_Was she asking nice?_

_If she was asking for it_

_Did she ask you twice?_

_~Asking For It – Hole~_

"Wait, what?" Alistair watched as Solona conjured a spellwisp. "Stop that!" he whispered. "Someone might sense it and come storming in, and I doubt they'll believe that _I_ created that thing out of thin air."

"Hmm, very true," she waved her hand about and the spellwisp disappeared. "Do you suppose anyone will mind if I wander about a bit? It's been a while since I've been…well, me. And…" A deep rumbling sound reverberated through the room. "I'm so hungry I swear I could eat an entire herd of cows. Do they have cows in Redcliffe? I've always wondered what it would be like to live on a farm after I read about it in a book. I know Jowan wanted to settle down with Lily on a farm. Well, that was before he ran off and left us all to take the blame. I wonder where he is? Hopefully he wasn't dumb enough to get himself into even _more _trouble."

Alistair stared at Solona for several moments, slightly bewildered at the apparent ease she was able to jump from subject to subject. It was clearly a talent of hers that he never knew she possessed. "I'm sure that Bann Teagan wouldn't mind if you took a tour of the castle. You did save the city and his nephew after all."

"Mmm. Well, you're right about that. But what sort of person would be so amoral as to deny another help when they so obviously need it?" Solona wondered aloud. "And for that matter, what sort of person unleashes such havoc to begin with?"

"A blood mage?" Alistair muttered dryly.

Solona's shoulders stiffened. She tucked a strand of ginger hair behind her ear. "I-I'll go see about that food." She strode out of the room, her back ramrod straight.

Alistair ran his hand over his face. "Idiot!" he hissed under his breath. He hadn't meant to insult her with his careless remark. The barb had been meant for that fool Jowan. It had completely slipped his mind that Solona was also a blood mage, but she was a different sort altogether. He sat on the edge of her bed, trying to come up with some way of showing her that he felt nothing but the utmost respect for her. Oh, who was he kidding? It went way beyond respect. He chewed nervously at his lower lip. His mind wandered to the rose in his pack…

**~*O*~*O*~**

Solona stalked through the main hall, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Rationally, she knew that Alistair's comment wouldn't normally elicit such a strong reaction from her, but upon regaining her emotions, each feeling seemed to be exaggerated. She was grumbling obscenities under her breath when she bumped into a solid mass. "Oof! Watch where you're going, you silly-" her words were cut short when warm, gentle hands steadied her shoulders.

"I apologize, my lady. I did not see you approaching," Bann Teagan smiled down at her warmly.

"Eh, don't worry about it. I should've been watching where I was going," she said dismissively. She inclined her head and made to pull away from him, only, he held her in place.

"Forgive me for speaking out of line, my lady, but you appear…distraught," Teagan observed.

Solona let out a distinctly unladylike grunt. "That's putting it mildly."

"For such a lovely creature to be in such a state should surely be a crime somewhere," his smile became a tad impish.

She choked back a laugh. "You're joking, right? Me? A lovely creature? I think you've misplaced your spectacles, milord. Last I checked, pasty, pudgy, ginges aren't any man's idea of 'loveliness'."

"Ah, but that's where you're mistaken. Beauty comes in many forms, or didn't anyone tell you that? You call yourself a 'pasty, pudgy, ginge'. A man such as I would be more inclined to call you fair skinned, voluptuous beauty with hair the colour of the richest amber."

Solona wrinkled her nose. "Alright, Bann Teagan, you either want something from me, or you're drunk, because you're laying it on pretty thick."

Teagan chuckled. "No, not drunk I'm afraid; though I wouldn't object to the pleasure of your company. I was just on my way to the kitchens to grab a bite to eat. Would you care to join me?"

"How serendipitous; I was just going to the kitchens myself, and trying my damnedest not to get lost. This place is almost as bad as the Tower," one corner of her mouth curved up into a half smile. "Oh, and pardon the obscenity. Unfortunately there wasn't a class on social etiquette at the Circle."

"Not to worry," Teagan replied. "I daresay that I find conversing with you to be quite refreshing. It's a shame we weren't able to talk more before this." He held out his arm for Solona to grasp. She raised an eyebrow then awkwardly rested her hand at the crook of his elbow. As they made their way to the kitchens, Bann Teagan pointed out several tapestries and explained their history. Solona listened and asked various questions. She'd always had an interest in such things. She was beginning to enjoy their light banter. It had been some time since she'd been able to truly express her thoughts on any given subject with any real feeling. Her previous dark mood was dissipating, when suddenly Teagan asked the one question she'd been dreading. "My lady, I must confess. I was under the impression that the Tranquil had no emotions, yet as far as I can tell, you have no problems expressing how you feel."

Solona's mouth dropped open. She floundered for some sort of explanation. "I-I have grown quite good at pretending to feel. I find it puts people at ease. Being emotionless tends to make others rather uncomfortable."

"Is that so? Then it is all an act?" Suddenly, Teagan whipped her around, and his lips crashed against hers. She felt his hands move down her spine, past the small of her back to cup her behind. Solona's eyes widened. With her hands pressed against his chest she let loose a weak lightning spell. He was immediately launched backward, landing flat on his back. She took several steps away and cast a glyph of repulsion.

"How _dare _you?" she hissed when he came to his senses.

Teagan shook his head several times to clear it. He glanced up at her, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "That's quite a feat for someone who is meant to be bereft of magic."

Solona's gaze hardened. "So after everything we've done here, you resort to trickery? You ought to be ashamed."

Teagan got to his feet and brushed away at invisible dust on his trousers. "I admit my tactics were vulgar, but I only sought an honest answer to my question, which you provided after a bit of coercion."

"Is that how you prove all of your points? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but my abilities are none of your concern, and for that matter neither is my emotional state. In fact, if at any time you find yourself pondering either subject, I would ask that you launch yourself off of the nearest dock into the nearest lake to rid yourself of such foolish contemplations!" Solona was breathing deeply, and in her tirade she had managed to close the space between herself and Teagan, her index finger jabbing into his chest.

Teagan smiled down at her. "I rather enjoy foolish contemplation, so I may find myself in the lake more often than not."

She huffed exasperatedly. "Why this sudden interest in me? You seemed quite unnerved by me during my previous visit."

"Much has changed since then," he murmured. He clasped her hand, holding it firmly to his chest. "It is very rare that I meet an able woman so full of fire. One that ignites passion with every word, with every movement. When I come across such a creature, I behave rather boldly I'm afraid."

Solona was readying her rebuttal when two large hands grasped her about the waist. She let out a squeal as she was flung over someone's shoulder.

"The Warden has already refused your advances. If you persist, I will run you through with my sword."

Teagan swallowed audibly, his gaze travelling up the massive qunari's form. "My apologies. I had only meant to give Warden Amell something that had once belonged to Alistair." He reached into his vest and extracted a beautiful amulet hanging on a thin golden chain. He handed the amulet to Sten. "I'll just be on my way…" The bann spun on his heel and strode off toward the second floor staircase. Once he was out of sight and earshot, Sten gingerly placed Solona on the ground and gave her Alistair's amulet.

Solona fiddled with her tunic. "Thanks for the rescue, Sten. I-well, to be honest, I didn't know you cared."

Sten grunted. "That man behaved with no honour. He did not heed your words of refusal. If my intervention was unwanted-"

She held up her hands in supplication. "No no! It was definitely wanted! I don't even want to think about what he would have tried to pull if you hadn't stepped in. Maybe he was just acting strangely because of everything that happened."

"There is no excuse, you waste your breath attempting to invent one," Sten grumbled. He hesitated a moment, as though unsure if he should speak his mind. "You are not quite as callow as I had previously thought. That is unexpected."

Solona's eyebrows shot upward. "Callow? You thought I was callow?"

"You sound surprised. You'll get over it…eventually," Sten replied dryly.

"Uh, thanks…I think."

"You are welcome," Sten said stiffly.

Solona stifled a grin. "So, _now_ will you tell me about why you were in the cage?"

Sten explained the events surrounding his arrival in Ferelden, the darkspawn attack, and the loss of his sword, Asala. He went on to say that he'd murdered an entire family of farmers with his bare hands in a rush of panic.

"Where did you fight the darkspawn?" Solona asked.

"Near Lake Calanhad," the qunari replied.

Solona reached up and placed a hand on Sten's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll find your sword."

"Those words may be empty…but thank you."

"Don't sweat it…" she glanced from side to side. "You wouldn't happen to know where the kitchens are, would you?"

**~*O*~*O*~**

Alistair thumbed at the rose in his hand as he made his way toward the kitchens. Solona had mentioned that she was hungry, surely he'd find her there. When he arrived, he first saw Sten gorging on an entire cake. As amusing as the sight was, Alistair felt his heart deflate. Until he took a peak over Sten's shoulder and saw the object of his affection, bent over a thick slab of roast boar, several potatoes, and a loaf of crusty bread. He pursed his lips together to keep from laughing as she speared half of a potato and shovelled it into her mouth. She tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into the gravy on her plate, then it too went into her mouth. A tiny rivulet of gravy trickled out of the corner of her mouth, and her tongue darted out to lick it up. Alistair stopped laughing then. He stared as she cut into her meat and brought it to her lips, the morsel disappearing into her mouth. As she chewed, her eyes rolled back and she let loose a throaty moan of appreciation. When she swallowed, she said to Sten. "I haven't been able to enjoy a meal in…months it would seem." She reached across to sample some of Sten's cake, but he growled at her. "Okay, okay. Yeesh."

"Solona?" Alistair finally piped up. "Can I…talk to you for a minute?"

Solona glanced up at him, then at Sten, one eyebrow raised in question. The qunari grumbled something under his breath and gathered a plate of assorted desserts into his hands. He shot Alistair a look of warning (warning him against what, Alistair wasn't sure) and left the kitchen. Solona gestured to the seat Sten had just vacated. "Talk."

Alistair sat in the chair across from her, hiding the rose beneath the table. "Listen…what I said before, about blood mages…"

She held up her hand. "Before you say anything, I just wanted to apologize for overreacting. Ever since I woke up and had feelings again, all of those feelings are…" she grasped for the appropriate word. "Intensified. It's like a painting whose colours have been saturated to the point of blinding. It'll take some getting used to."

"Still, I shouldn't have said it. I didn't mean to upset you. I…Oh Maker, I'm terrible at this," he pulled the rose from beneath the table and handed it to her. "Here, do you know what this is?"

Solona's brow furrowed. "That's a rose."

"I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, 'how can something so beautiful grow in such chaos.'"

"That's a nice sentiment," Solona smiled.

Alistair took a deep breath. Sweat had begun to bead on his forehead. "I thought that I might…give it to you. In a way, I'm reminded of you when I look at it."

Solona tilted her head to one side, a slightly amused smile playing across her lips. "You think of me as a gentle flower?"

He chuckled. "A _gentle _flower? I don't know if I'd say that. It's just that, ever since you've joined, you haven't experienced any of the good things about being a Grey Warden. It's all been death and destruction, and not a word of thanks. I just wanted you to know what a rare and wonderful thing you are amidst all of this…darkness."

"Thank you Alistair, that's very sweet."

Alistair's cheeks were burning. "I'm glad you like it…now if we can skip past the awkward parts and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."

Solona held the rose up to her nose and sniffed at it delicately. She gazed at him over the petals and winked. "Sounds good, off with the armour then!"

He laughed nervously. "Ha ha, bluff called. Damn, she saw right through me."

"You're very cute when you're bashful."

Alistair cleared his throat and continued to smile goofily. "I'll just go…and leave you to eat. Until the blushing stops – you know how it is…"

Alistair ducked his head to hide his rosy cheeks. Solona smiled up at him as he left the room, his mood a bit lighter than it had been when he'd first walked in.


	12. Dream A Little Dream

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age. I own a fab Kindle.

**A/N: **Oh my, it took a little while, but here is the next instalment! Thanks once again for all reviews, for reading, and to everyone who has alerted and fave'd. *Hearts*

* * *

_Delicate love, precious and pale_  
_Tempted and torn_  
_Broken and failed_  
_Don't leave me here_  
_Don't leave me alone_  
_I am the one_  
_The devil you know_

_~The Devil You Know - Econoline Crush~_

"The Deep Roads, I always seem to dream about the bloody Deep Roads," Solona muttered, sparing a glance at the horde of darkspawn. As usual, they stared at her reverently, begging her for release from the world they no longer wished to inhabit.

"If you prefer, we could try and go someplace else," her own voice replied. "Perhaps we could attempt to tap into your friend Alistair's dreams…or maybe the bard. I'll bet she has naughty dreams about us."

Solona sighed, only mildly disconcerted at having to talk to the mirror image of herself. She'd done it a few times before. The one named Eziel was fond of chatting with her in her dreams. "What's your angle, anyway? Why're you so interested in Leliana? Personally, I don't really see the appeal. A little too self-righteous for my tastes."

Eziel grinned. "That's precisely the point. The more pious the partner, the sweeter the seduction."

"Whatever you say," Solona replied. She turned back to the darkspawn, her eyes narrowed in suspicion when one wandered closer. Eziel seemed unperturbed by its close proximity. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped your 'seduction' of her. I would really prefer it if my body wasn't used for your sexual conquests."

Eziel's grin widened. "Don't be such a bore. Besides, you're only worried that my pursuit of Leliana will interfere with your relationship with the other Warden." The stray darkspawn, a hurlock emissary, crawled up to Eziel, its hands held out toward her. Eziel rolled her eyes and flicked the hurlock's skull-like nose. The slavering beast fell to the ground, dead.

Solona shuddered. She was unsure of how Eziel was able to physically interact with the darkspawn while they dreamt, but every time they were in the Deep Roads in their sleep, she managed to kill a few of the creatures. "Don't be ridiculous," she finally responded. "Though I doubt he likes sharing, in fact, I doubt _she_ would want to share either."

"Ah, tension. Nothing better than a bit of tension between friends during a battle campaign," Eziel chuckled. "Maybe they'll have a duel to the death over us. Wouldn't that be amusing?"

Solona rolled her eyes. "Certainly, if you're amused by conflict, mistrust and death." When Eziel's eyes brightened, Solona realized that the other being really _was _amused by such things. She made a point to tell her friends not to trust Eziel, especially if-

"Now now, that's not very sporting of you. You'll ruin all of my fun if you do that," Eziel's gaze narrowed and she advanced upon Solona. Solona tried to take a step backward, but found herself rooted in place. Eziel reached out and pressed the tips of her fingers on either side of Solona's head. "We'll just have to erase this memory…or recreate it."

Solona's eyes widened in alarm. "You can't do that!"

Eziel smirked. "Why not? I've done it before." Her lips parted and she began to chant in a language that Solona didn't recognize. Her vision blurred, and her thoughts became muddled. Soon her eyelids became heavy, and she wondered idly if she was to have a dream within a dream. As her eyes fell shut and her breathing became slow and even, she forgot what she had been so worried about only moments before.

**~*O*~*O*~**

"Erm…are you telling me you want me to find your mule?" Solona asked. The merchant gave a start, clearly taken aback by her question.

"No, I had the elf do it. I'd never ask a stranger to do that! Allow me to introduce myself. Felix de Grosbois, merchant and entrepreneur at your service," he did a showy bow, and Solona couldn't help but smile that his name, which sounded so cultured, didn't exactly match up to the man standing before her. He told her a sob story involving him purchasing a golem control rod from a dwarf, but that he was afraid that bandits might attack him for the rod, thinking that the rod might be a gem, or some such nonsense. Solona wasn't really paying attention to the man's ramblings. She was interested in hearing more about the golem, however.

"So how much do you want for this control rod?" Solona asked.

Felix shook his head. "Nothing. I'd rather just be rid of the thing. You'd be doing be a favour by taking it off my hands. The problem is the golem is in a village called Honnleath, south of here, so you'll need to go there to find it. Just hold the control rod up to it and say the code word to activate it: Dulef gar."

"My own personal golem, eh? Sounds good," Solona took the control rod from Felix and motioned for her companions to follow her. "Good luck finding your mule!" She called over her shoulder.

They had left Redcliffe the previous day after Lady Isolde had told them of Andraste's urn of sacred ashes. She claimed that it was the last hope for her husband's recovery. Solona was dubious, but if there was a chance that it would help them in their quest, she was willing to try it. The arlessa had said that they should seek out Brother Genetivi, a scholar in Denerim. Upon discovering that the arl's condition was unchanged but stable, she decided that it would be best to travel to Orzammar, then to Lake Calanhad to seek out clues on Sten's missing sword, and finally travel to Denerim before pressing on the Brecillian Forest. They had been heading past Sulcher's Pass when they encountered Felix, and while Honnleath wasn't exactly on their way to Orzammar, a golem did sound most useful to the mage. They traveled for several hours before night began to fall, and they decided to set up camp. Solona began boiling some vegetables over the campfire she'd created (with her magic of course, she never had learned how to make a proper fire rubbing two sticks together). She glanced up when she heard Zevran approach with two chickens held in his hand. She wondered idly if he stole them from someone's farm. If he did she wouldn't have cared. The chicken was a welcome change from the hare and dried venison they'd been consuming every night. He'd already plucked and gutted them, for which Solona was grateful. It was one less thing she had to do in order to prepare supper. Zevran handed the chickens over to her and sent her a winning smile.

"You didn't rub poison on them, did you?" she asked playfully while chopping off chickens' heads and feet.

Zevran gripped his chest and pretended to look affronted. "My dear Warden, how can you accuse me of such things! I would never so much as harm a hair on your beautiful head."

Solona snorted and rubbed several herbs and spices into the chickens' skin as she'd done countless times before. She speared the birds on a spit and left them to roast over the fire. Zevran sat next to her, and she felt his gaze trained upon her. She glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"Oh, nothing. I was merely pondering something," the elf replied.

Solona tilted her head to one side, asking the obvious question. "What were you pondering?"

"Why you spared me."

"Ah."

Zevran smirked. "You could have easily killed me, but instead you risk your life by having me along on your trip. Very unusual behaviour, my dear."

Solona shrugged a shoulder. "Perhaps to you, but it made perfect sense to me. I require as much help as possible in order to defeat the Blight. Having someone with your cunning will undoubtedly prove useful in trying to gather allies. You're also an excellent fighter."

"Such high praise! I am unused to having someone appreciate the skills that I have to offer. Perhaps I could offer my gratitude for your benevolence later tonight in your tent?" Zevran inched closer to Solona and tucked several strands of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered a moment, the tips gliding down the side of her neck. Zevran noticed her attempt to conceal the shiver that ran through her and his grin widened.

"I don't think so…" she responded, though her voice betrayed the desire she felt. She cursed her body's reaction, she obviously still didn't have a handle on her emotions, to be so easily aroused.

Zevran cupped her cheek, drawing her face closer to his. "Come now, my dear, even you deserve to relax now and then." His eyes dropped to her mouth when her tongue darted out to lick her lips nervously.

Solona began to pull away from him. "Zevran, I really don't think-"

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Solona jerked back from Zevran as though his hand was made of fire. She glanced up at Alistair, who now stood over them. A look of guilt crossed her features and a blush coloured her cheeks and throat. "Alistair, I-"

"No, no, don't mind me. I just wanted to know when supper would be ready," Alistair was pinning Zevran with a death glare.

Zevran smiled languidly at the ex-templar, his eyelids slightly hooded. "I do believe that our innocent Chantry boy is jealous."

"Don't be ridiculous," Alistair barked.

The elf quirked a brow. "Oh? Then you won't mind if I show the lovely Warden some Antivan massage techniques. Being raised in a brothel does have its advantages."

Solona's face became an even deeper shade of crimson. "Zev!"

"Ah, I have made the lady blush. It has been a while since I've kept company with a woman who was still able to do so," Zevran purred. "I wonder how much of your body that blush covers…"

Alistair scowled and stalked back to his tent, all the while grumbling angrily under his breath.

"Was that really necessary?" Solona asked exasperatedly. "Just…keep an eye on dinner. I'm going to see if he's alright." She stood and followed her fellow Warden, hands jammed in the pockets of her breeches. When she arrived at his tent, she called out to him tentatively. "Alistair?"

"What do you want?" came his sharp reply.

Solona sighed. "I just wanted to talk for a minute. Can I come in?"

"Fine."

She pulled the tent flap back and ducked inside. Alistair was sitting on his bedroll, his fists clenched at his sides. She noticed several knick knacks sitting to one side of the tent and most seemed to be arcane in nature. "You have an interesting collection."

"Thank you," he said stiffly.

"Listen, about what Zevran said-"

"You don't have to explain anything to me," he cut in. "You can be _close_ with the entire party, and it still wouldn't be any of my business."

Solona's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Leliana, Zevran…it doesn't matter. Obviously you're used to behaving a certain way. I for one am just not interested in being involved. Call me old fashioned, but I take these sorts of things seriously," he folded his arms over his chest.

"I see," she said coolly. "Well then, if that's how you feel about me, I won't bother you anymore unless it's related to the Blight."

"I—yes, that's probably best," he conceded.

Solona nodded and exited his tent. She walked briskly to her own tent and crawled into her bedroll. She felt as though someone had punched her in the gut. Surely this was another example of her experiencing intensified feelings? There was no possible way this sort of heartache was natural, especially since she didn't know Alistair all that well. Solona knew deep down that she was kidding herself. Within a short period of time the ex-templar had made it past her defences and had secured a place in her heart. She didn't dare make a sound as the tears spilled down her cheeks. It was imperative that no one realize just how weak she'd become.


	13. Familiarity Breeds Contempt

**Disclaimer:** EA and Bioware own DA, I own the clothes on my back.

**A/N:** Whoa, it's been way too long. I'm ashamed at the length of time it took me to update. Unfortunately I had to undergo surgery (again) and I have been reading manically, so that doesn't help either. But this story is still in full bloom, so no worries there! As always, thanks to the lurkers, reviewers, and everyone else!

**Warning: **More violence than usual in this chapter.

* * *

_Watch the blood run down her face  
But don't take notice  
Watch the blood run down her arms  
Please don't take notice  
I know you have her soul, I see it in your eyes  
She knows you have her soul, she sees it in your eyes_

_~Paperdoll – Kittie~  
_

His master was displeased. As they travelled, his arms hung limply by his sides, only occasionally offering a slight pat on Mac's head. He didn't like seeing his master displeased. He especially didn't like knowing that it was his master's own fault for his displeasure.

Mac had tried countless times over the course of the past two days to hint at gifts to bring the Red Fox. Mac knew she would enjoy the succulent hare that the mabari had dropped at his master's feet, urging him to bring it as a gift to his intended. Mac knew that the Fox and his master would mate, it was only a matter of time. Both gave off the scent of desire. Mac just couldn't understand why they didn't act on it.

As they trudged down the dirt path leading to Honnleath, Mac took note of the other potential mates for the Red Fox. There was the Bronzed Giant, but Mac knew he sought to protect the Fox, not mate with her. There was also the Lithe Trickster. He wanted to mate with the Fox, of that Mac had no doubt. Unfortunately for the Trickster, the Fox felt nothing but friendship toward him. Which left the final candidate vying for the Fox's attentions - the fly in the ointment. The Songbird. Half of the time the Fox had no interest in the Songbird's incessant prattling about frivolous affairs, and yet, in the dead of night, Mac saw the Fox creep into the Songbird's tent, and Mac heard the sounds coming from within. He hoped desperately that his master didn't hear those sounds.

Without warning, his master unsheathed his longsword. "Darkspawn…" he murmured.

The Fox nodded. "I'd say about twenty or so…why would they choose here to-" Her words were cut off when several villagers scrambled past them, their shrieks piercing the air. The Fox made a motion with her head, urging their group forward. As they had suspected, dozens of darkspawn had taken up residence in the small village. The Fox glanced over at Mac's master. "We can either fight them, or I can try to…"

Mac's master chewed on his lower lip. "I don't want to put you in any unnecessary danger…"

The Fox shrugged off his concern and ambled over to the largest group of darkspawn. From what Mac could tell, they seemed to be…talking to her. What was even more terrifying was that the Fox answered. But she did not answer in the common tongue.

"Pru'lci cahn doreena, frit malana duchi var?" the Fox asked, her head tilted to one side. The darkspawn nodded in unison. "As you wish," the Fox sighed. Mac watched with growing curiosity as the darkspawn lined up before the Fox in single file. One by one she would place a hand on their head, and they would crumple to the ground. Soon the entire village was free of darkspawn. Mac glanced up at his master and noticed the pain and longing in his eyes as he gazed at the Fox. Mac felt his master's despair through their bond. He wondered when his master would finally muster his courage and apologize to the Fox before he lost her to the Songbird for good.

**~*O*~*O*~**

Alistair frowned when the code word failed to work. He saw the look of frustration that Sol shot the control rod. "Bloody thing," she groused. "Should've known better than to believe someone named Felix de Grosbois."

"We could always venture over to that dilapidated house, my dear. Perhaps we will find answers there," Zevran sidled up to Solona, draping an arm over her shoulders in a show of comfort. He began rubbing slow circles on one shoulder and Alistair scowled, his hands immediately clenching into fists. He'd suspected that the pair of them were intimate, but they'd never been public about their—

"Oy, hands _off_, Zev! I've told you countless times to keep your lecherous paws to yourself. After all, I know where they've been, and it'll be a cold day in the Deeps before I warm _your_ bed," she teased, though the underlying warning in her voice was clear. She shook his arm off and focused on the house that the assassin had pointed out.

Alistair ran a hand over his face. It was official: he was the world's biggest idiot. He'd completely misread the situation between Zevran and Sol, his jealousy blinding him these past days. She hadn't spoken a word to him, not that he could blame her; he'd all but called her a whore that night in his tent. Mac snuffled at his hand and Alistair glanced down at his faithful mabari, and realization dawned on him. "It's what you've been trying to tell me! I've just been too stubborn to listen…" Mac barked in the affirmative. "What should I do? Just…go up and talk to her? I suppose an apology would be a good start." Another bark from Mac. "Right, let's hope she doesn't shoot a lightning bolt up my arse."

He trotted up to Sol, who'd just reached the entrance to what appeared to be a cellar. "So," he started awkwardly, "what language were you speaking to the darkspawn?"

She shrugged a shoulder, not sparing him a glance. "No clue, whatever language they speak I suppose. Darkspawnonian or Archdemonese. Take your pick." Her responses were clipped and devoid of emotion. She pushed through the large wooden door and stood on the threshold, assessing any possible threats.

Alistair tried humour. "By the way you're speaking one would think you'd undergone the Rite of Tranquility again."

Her shoulders stiffened. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing…" Her voice was hoarse, and Alistair was overcome with a need to pull her into his arms, to surround her warm, soft body with the hard planes of his own. She needed comfort, and he longed to be the one to provide it to her. He reached out to her, his fingertips barely grazing the wisps of her hair, when she took a step away from him and cleared her throat. "I think I hear voices coming from down there." She was distancing herself from him emotionally. He knew this, and he would allow her this one brief concession, for the wound was fresh. But with her one small comment - that she would prefer to feel _nothing_ than the pain she was currently experiencing…it had given Alistair an insight into her soul that he'd previously never had. He knew how others saw him: goofy, sweet, bumbling Alistair. She had somehow seen through all of the masks he wore. She saw the complexity that was Alistair FitzTheirin, and she had cared for him and accepted his faults. This sudden insight was staggering, and as he followed her down the steps of the cellar, he realized that he had fallen completely and utterly, bat-shit in love with Solona Amell. Solona the ex-Tranquil. Solona the Blood Mage. Solona who was harboring some sort of weird spirit thing in her soul. None of it mattered.

Because for him, she was all he would ever need.

**~*O*~*O*~**

Solona managed to dispatch the remaining darkspawn that had been causing problems down in the cellar. She knew it was insane, but she was beginning to feel sorry for them. They had a need to destroy all life, it was something they had no control over, and yet with Solona, they somehow found peace. Was it right for a Grey Warden to feel guilt over killing darkspawn? She didn't think Duncan would approve. As the party moved deeper into the cellar, Solona spied a magical barrier. It protected several town folk who seemed elated by the Warden and company's sudden arrival.

"By the Maker, we're saved!" exclaimed one woman.

A man stepped forward, his long blond hair pulled into a ponytail. Solona's mouth fell open when she saw him. "Did the Bann send you?" the man asked.

Solona shook her head, completely dumbstruck by the man's appearance. _It couldn't be…_

"We're Grey Wardens," Alistair supplied. "We came to your village because we bought a control rod from a travelling merchant."

"A control rod?" the blond repeated. "Oh, you must be talking about Shale," he said, his voice filled with disgust. He made a few motions with his hand and lowered the barrier, then signaled the group to join him. "My name is Matthias, and my father Wilhelm was the owner of that damnable golem—"

Solona shook her head bewilderedly. "Your name is Matthias? Holy health poultices! You look _identical _to a mage I once studied with. Do you have a brother by chance?"

Matthias frowned. "Not that I'm aware of. What's this mage's name that you're talking about?"

Solona waved a hand dismissively. "Skip it, it's obviously just a weird coincidence. As we were saying, we bought the control rod, but the code word doesn't work."

Matthias smiled wryly. "No doubt my mother gave the merchant the incorrect phrase. The golem did kill my father after all. But if you want Shale so badly, you can have it. There's something I must ask for in return for the correct code word. My daughter managed to get into my father's laboratory, and I have no idea what's happened to her. I don't know how she got past the defences! I sent a man down there for her, and he never came back. Please, please save my little girl."

Solona scratched the back of her neck. She wondered idly why Matthias hadn't gone after her himself, but assumed he needed to maintain the barrier that he'd erected to protect the villagers. "Of course we'll help."

Though helping was more of a pain in the ass than Solona had anticipated. They were faced with shades, and worst of all, when they finally found Matthias's daughter, Amalia, she was in deep conversation with a demonic cat. Solona tried reasoning with Amalia, but the girl was enthralled by the damned feline. In the end she made a deal with the demon that she'd release it and allow it to take possession of Amalia's body. The fact that Solona had no intention of upholding her end of the bargain didn't matter, of course. She glanced at the intricate puzzle that held the demon captive. From what she could tell, the trick was to manipulate a trail of flames from one corner of the large square to the other using directional tiles. Solona cracked her knuckles.

"I have a feeling I'm gonna be suffering from some severe burns by the end of this…" She commenced shifting the tiles, taking a few moments each time to determine which path made the most sense. As she predicted, she burned herself several times, leading to several hissed expletives. Eventually she solved the puzzle and the demon was set free.

"Finally! Freedom!" the satisfaction practically dripped from the cat's voice.

For the first time, Amalia seemed wary of the cat. "Kitty? What's happening?"

"A wonderful thing my dear, for both of us," the demon replied.

Solona folded her arms over her chest and sneered at the cat. "I said I'd set you free, I never said I'd let you live."

"Betrayal!" the demon hissed and began to transform.

Solona cast a protective spell on Amalia and grabbed her by the hand. "Your father is waiting for you upstairs Amalia, go to him! I'll deal with this mean old kitty."

The child nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. She shot out of the room leaving Solona and her companions to battle the demon and…"Oh no!" Solona moaned. "Not the damned zombies again! Eziel may love them, but they gross the shit out of me."

Zevran let out a bark of laughter and rounded a group of the undead creatures, stabbing them repeatedly in their backs. Alistair took the demon head on, smashing into it with his shield. He vaguely heard Solona chanting behind him, conjuring up some sort of spell. He sensed it would be a big one if his templar training was any indication.

"Move!" Solona shouted at him. He leapt aside just as she unleashed her Cone of Cold spell. Though powerful, Alistair was confused as to why she'd needed to chant for so long before unleashing it. The answer suddenly became clear when beams of light surrounded the demon, lifting it into the air. The beams of light drew together, crushing the enemy, and finally shattered it completely. "Always wanted to do that," Solona grinned cheekily. Zevran and Mac had killed the rest of the zombies, and the party made their way back to Matthias.

Solona's heart swelled when she saw the little girl reunited with her father. He hugged her tightly to him and kissed the crown of her head. "I'm sorry I ran off like that Daddy," Amalia whimpered softly.

"It's alright Butterfly, you're safe now." Matthias turned to Solona, his expression grave. "The real code word to activate Shale is _dulen harn_, though I don't know why you'd ever want to reawaken that thing. Thank you for rescuing my daughter, I think it's best if we be on our way." The pair left the cellar without looking back.

"Well, I suppose we may as well go and try to wake up…what did he call it? Shale?" Solona said, mostly to herself. She wandered over to a ladder that led up to the village. Alistair made sure to stay close behind. He didn't want Zevran ogling that plump and succulent rear end of hers (even though that was precisely what he himself was doing at that exact moment).

Solona stood before the golem and took a deep breath. "_Dulen harn_."

The ground around the golem shook and Solona heard great creaking sounds being emitted from the stone creature. It slowly began to move, and a bright light shone behind its eyes. Solona's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Awesome," she murmured.

"And what have we here? Another mage. Typical," the golem said wryly.

Solona tilted her head. "How do you know that I'm a mage? I'm not even wearing the standard issued robes. I don't even have a staff!" She suddenly turned to Alistair and Zevran. "We should work on that, by the way. Staves are pretty important for mages, and I think I deserve one."

"Despite the lack of robes and staff, it is still quite obviously a mage," the golem replied. "Does it see these crystals encrusted within my stone form? They do more than make me glitter and look pretty. They can manipulate the ebb and flow of mana…or something of the sort. I must say, the mana is rolling off of _it_ in waves. It is much more powerful than my former master."

Solona mulled this over before speaking. "I heard you killed your former master."

"Did I? Hardly surprising. Perhaps his final command was 'golem, put down that rock!'," the golem chuckled. "How did it come to acquire the control rod? I imagine it must have been difficult to find, or quite expensive."

Solona couldn't help but grin. "Oh, yes. It cost a small fortune."

"Worth every penny, of course. What does it intend to do with it?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I hadn't really thought about it. Having my own personal golem just sounded handy, truth to be told."

"Wonderful…and yet I wonder something. I feel…different than I did with my former master. Quickly, order me to do something!" the golem commanded.

"Alright…go and give Zevran a hug," Solona ordered.

Zevran took a step back. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I do not enjoy having foreign objects invading my personal space. At least, most of the time."

"And I feel nothing! I feel no compulsion to carry out its command! The control rod must have somehow been destroyed," the golem announced happily.

Solona frowned. "Oh…so what will you do now?"

"I suppose I have two options, do I not? Go with it or…go elsewhere? I…do not even know what lies beyond this village," the golem admitted.

"If you come with me, are you going to continue to refer to me as 'it'?" she asked.

"Yes, very likely," the golem chuckled.

Solona shrugged a shoulder. "Fair enough, you're more than welcome to join us. What should we call you?"

"I am called Shale."

Solona smiled widely. "Welcome aboard, Shale! Hope you like watching me blow things up!"

If Solona didn't know any better, she could have sworn she saw the stone creature _smiling_. "This should be interesting," Shale intoned.

**~*O*~*O*~**

Solona had been walking on her own for a couple of hours. She had needed some time to herself to regroup and mull over her current situation. Alistair had attempted to flag her down several times on their way to the Frostback Mountains and Orzammar. The group had finally set up camp for the night, and Solona took the opportunity for a long overdue ramble. It was something she was quite fond of doing in the Tower, though her jaunts were always indoors. In this case, she had the privilege of admiring the lush foliage stretching endlessly ahead of her. She went off the beaten path for a time, and came upon a babbling brook. The water was clear and looked positively divine. She sat down on the grass and unlaced her leather boots. She dipped her toes into the brook and wiggled them. After spending the day walking with her feet in constant constraints, the cool water felt marvelous. She hummed softly under her breath as she splashed about playfully. A hand wrapped itself around her mouth and arms like steel beams roughly pulled her to her feet. She was pressed against an armored chest, and the plate cut painfully through her linen shirt. She closed her eyes and was about to unleash a Mind Blast spell that would put all others to shame.

"Don't even think about it," a voice rasped in her ear. She felt a sickening lurch in her gut. Her body suddenly felt worn and weak. She whimpered against the hand and the man gripping her chuckled cruelly. "Smiting sure does take a lot outta yah, don't it?"

Solona's mind reeled. _Templars_.

"Time for your comeuppance, maleficar. Don't think we haven't forgotten about all the trouble you've caused the Chantry. Most of the Tower was willing to look the other way, but a few of us wanted to see you brought to justice before the eyes of the Maker," he growled. Solona was tossed aside like a ragdoll, effectively useless since she'd been completely drained of mana. She knew the Smite wouldn't last forever, and she would simply have to bide her time until she replenished enough mana to send these bastards to the Black City, or wherever assholes went when they died. She counted how many templars surrounded her…four in total. One stood off to the side, leaning against a tree, his arms folded across his chest. The templar who'd grabbed her stood above her, leering at her with bloodless lips. "You mages are worse than darkspawn. You're like a virus that's plaguing all of Thedas, and it's up to us to wipe you out." His fist flew forward and cracked against Solona's jaw. Her head snapped back and she nearly fell over. Another blow landed in her stomach, and her breath left her in a whoosh, doubling her over. Another templar, this one stockier than the first, grabbed her by the hair. He jerked her to the ground and dragged her by her tresses to a fallen tree. She knelt over the log, and she both felt and heard the men ripping the shirt from her back.

Another voice, one she hadn't heard yet, said: "We remember how the Knight-Commander used to punish you, so we came prepared. We snuck into his office and snatched his flail." Solona's heart thudded against her chest. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Luckily, she felt her mana beginning to reform within her. Soon she'd be able to cast. "Dorien!" her initial attacker shouted. "Smite her again!" An instant later, Solona felt the familiar lurching sensation. They had this carefully planned out. They would continuously Smite her while they beat her to death. She shook with rage at the hopelessness of her situation, a low growl being emitted from her throat. The sound earned her a kick to the cheek. "Shut it!" one of her attackers rasped. It was then that she felt the first snap of the flail on her back. The initial strike was painful enough, but as the claws set into her and tore at her flesh, she let out a scream. Between each whipping of the flail, they would kick at her ribs. Sometimes they punched and slapped her face. They spat on her repeatedly. But none of it compared to the pain of the flail. She could feel the blood flowing down her back. It dripped down her arms as well, trickling onto the ground. Solona was slowly (and mercifully) beginning to lose consciousness. As the edges of her vision blurred, she heard one of the men say. "Smite her again, she's gearing up for another spell!"

The familiar lurch, and Solona could do naught but think lamely, _No I wasn't…I couldn't cast now if I tried…_

Solona wasn't sure, but in her stupor she could have sworn she heard a gurgling sound. Was it coming from her? She thought the sound odd, but didn't give it much thought. Then she realized the beatings had ceased, and she wondered if they'd stopped for a break. And then she heard the screams. With her last ounce of strength she turned her head to see what on Thedas was going on. What she saw caused her to inhale sharply. The templars hung in the air, their limbs dangling and twitching. Blood poured from them in pints. Their faces were twisted in horror as they cried out in pain. Solona watched, mouth agape, as one by one they fell to the ground, dead. She shook her head in confusion. She struggled to retain consciousness, unsure if she was still in danger. Her eyes had begun to swell shut, and she let out a moan of frustration.

"Shhhhh," a soft voice said, close to her ear. "You're safe now, they're dead." Warm, gentle hands stroked a greasy substance onto her back. It stung and she let out a hiss of pain. "I know, it hurts, but it'll make you feel better. Maker's breath, I can't believe what they were going to do to you. Actually, I can believe it, they probably would've done the same to me," her rescuer said conversationally. He was definitely male, and his voice was _very _familiar. "I wish I could heal you better…but you were always the pro at that. Well, you and that other fellow, the blond guy with the earring." He felt along her ribs. "I don't think they punctured anything…" He tilted her face toward him, and she was only just barely able to see how sorrowful his beautiful eyes were. She had always thought he had such lovely eyes. He let out a sympathetic moan. "Oh Lonnie, how could they do this to you?"


	14. Over My Dead Body

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own DA. I own this lip balm I'm using right now...Doesn't work very well.

**A/N: **Geez, this was another long wait between updates. I swear the next one will be really soon. Like, less than a week. Though, to make amends, this chapter's lyrical intro is one of the most amazing songs ever (IMO). As always, thanks goes out to the readers, reviewers, etc. Filler chapter is full of fill. =D

* * *

_Darkness imprisoning me  
All that I see, absolute horror  
I cannot live, I cannot die  
Trapped in myself  
Body my holding cell_

_~One – Metallica~_

"…_too many injuries to heal all at once. This process will take _time_, Alistair._"

Solona floated above her companions, catching only snippets of their conversations. They were all huddled around her unconscious body, Wynne being the closest and applying several poultices and the occasional healing spell. Solona looked off to the side and noticed that her rescuer was tied to a tree. He was the one that saved her from those asshole Templars, and they go and tie him up? She frowned and turned her attention back to the group.

"…_not a fleshy creature it wouldn't have sustained so many injuries. It seems to be leaking fluids at an alarming rate. Perhaps the elder mage should re-dress the wounds?_"

"_...Maker, hear our prayers…_"

"_Will someone tell that Chantry twit that her wretched chant will do nothing to help this situation?_"

She drew closer to her battered form and winced. She had been laid on her side due to the damage on her back. As Shale had mentioned, the bandages that covered the wounds she'd sustained from the flail had been soaked through with blood. Her face was swollen and bruised beyond recognition. She watched as Wynne cast another healing spell, and, without thinking, Solona attempted one of her own. To her absolute horror, nothing happened. She searched for that part of her that she drew on to control her spells, and realized that there was nothing there. She continued to float above them for several moments, staring down at her hands, when a voice cried out.

"Lonnie! What in the world are you doing up there?"

Solona's head snapped around and she saw Jowan, her long time friend and rescuer of killer Templars, gaping up at her from his place tied to the tree.

"What are you talking about?" Alistair demanded. He followed Jowan's gaze. "I don't see anything."

Morrigan's lips curved into a smirk when she glanced up. "'Twould appear that the Warden is sending out some sort of…astral projection."

"Oh my," Wynne murmured as she looked up. "Solona, my dear, can you hear us?"

Solona folded her arms over her chest. "Yes, I can," she forced herself to float downward until her feet reached the ground. "Can you hear me?"

Morrigan nodded. "Yes, we can. Is there a particular reason you are speaking to us in…spirit form?"

"Yeah, 'cause I wanted to spy on Alistair while he sleeps," she retorted caustically.

Wynne covered her mouth to stifle a chuckle while Morrigan's amused gaze settled on Alistair. "Why am I not surprised?"

Alistair's eyes narrowed as a self-conscious frown tugged his lips downward. "Hey! What's she saying about me? And why can't the rest of us see her?"

"Probably because you're not mages," Jowan called out. "Lonnie, can you _please _tell your friends that I wasn't the one to do this to you?"

Solona nodded to Wynne and Morrigan. "It's true; it was a group of Templars that came after me. They kept Smiting me so I couldn't use my magic. Jowan snuck in and went crazy on them."

Morrigan hissed at the mention of Templars. "Do those cretins have nothing better to do than hunt down _maleficarum_ when a Blight looms over us?"

"What? What happened? I hate not knowing what's going on," Alistair glanced around as though trying to catch a glimpse of Solona, obviously put out that he wasn't one of the select few to be able to see her.

"Solona was attacked by a group of Templars," Wynne explained. "Her friend Jowan managed to intercede and..._deal_ with them."

"'Tis a pleasant way of saying that he slaughtered them," Morrigan grinned wickedly. "And more power to him, I say. Good riddance to bad rubbish."

Sten grunted. "This talk is pointless. The Warden is obviously trapped and you _mages_ should be spending your time attempting to find a way to bring her back."

Leliana nodded. "I agree with Sten for once. We cannot continue our travels with Solona in this condition."

Morrigan let out a huff of exasperation and folded her arms over her chest. "Do you not think that if we knew how to help her, we would have by now? Clearly, 'tis up to the Warden. Only she holds the key to freeing herself of this form."

Solona sighed. "I wish I knew how to snap out of this…this…whatever this is. Unfortunately I have no clue what to do," she winced once again as Wynne peeled away the bandages to apply fresh ones, bringing Solona's disgusting wounds into view. "On the bright side, at least I can't feel anything right now." She heard a low, menacing growl. The sound was continuous, and Solona glanced around to locate Mac, who she assumed was the source. It wasn't until several moments passed by that she realized that Alistair was the one emitting the sound deep in his throat. He was staring fixatedly at her back, his eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a snarl that she'd never seen him display before. Wynne gave him a worried look, while Leliana took a step away from him.

"If I had been there…" he hissed angrily.

"_You_ would have slaughtered them?" Zevran asked with an almost jovial tone.

Alistair nodded slowly. "Though I'd leave so little of them behind that no one would be able to identify the bodies." He let out one last guttural growl.

Solona's mouth dropped open at Alistair's declaration. Did he really care about her so much that he was willing to go to such lengths to protect her? She made a mental note to have a chat with him once she finally figured out how to get back into her body.

"I believe that I have done all I can for now," Wynne announced. "I think it best if we all attempt to get some sleep." She stood and turned to Solona, her brow creased with worry. "Will you be alright, dear?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Sure, I guess."

"I'll take first watch," Alistair offered. The group dispersed and made their way to their respective tents. He glanced at Jowan, his eyebrows raised. "Is she still here?"

Solona shook her head vigorously at Jowan. "Uh, no, she's not. I think she went off to speak with one of the other mages," Jowan replied. When Alistair turned his back on him, Jowan raised a questioning eyebrow at Solona.

"I don't want him to know I'm floating around. Might creep him out or something," she explained. Jowan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Solona sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. She wasn't the type to scare easily, but given her present circumstances, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of dread. She had no idea how to regain control over her body, and the thought of living the rest of her existence as nothing more than a wraith was more than a teensy bit perturbing. She could only hope that she or one of her companions somehow found a cure for whatever was causing this problem. Until then she couldn't do much more than sit and wait for something to happen. She had a feeling it would be a long night…

**~*O*~*O*~**

Alistair ran his fingers over Solona's brow. His features were pinched as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. He simply didn't understand how someone's spirit could get up and walk around without their body being dead. He knew of the Fade, and the spirits that inhabited that realm, but as far as he knew, the dreamers' reality was wholly separate from the plane on which wakeful ones walked. To be caught somewhere in between the two realms…the very idea sent a shiver down Alistair's spine. "She must feel so alone," he said softly. He toyed with a lock of her hair. "I should never have said those things to you," he continued. "Though I've always had a problem with doing or saying things I didn't mean when I was angry, and not once have I not regretted it. I remember I used to wear this amulet that once belonged to my mother. It was beautiful, made of silver and had Andraste's flame etched on it. When Arl Eamon told me he was sending me to the Chantry I got so mad I threw it against the wall. Stupid, stupid thing to do. It shattered, and not a day goes by that I don't wish I could go back and stop myself from ruining the one thing I had that belonged to my mother. I always thought I'd learned from that mistake, only here I am again, wondering if you'll make it through the night, and cursing myself for acting like a complete idiot when what I should have done is told you just how much I care about you. And now it might be too late for that…" his voice had grown hoarse with emotion. "Please stay with me, Sol. I don't want to be alone anymore…"

-_You are never truly alone, Warden.-_

Alistair's head snapped up and he glanced from side to side. "What? Who said that?"

-_I did, you silly boy.-_

The voice was echoing through his head. It sounded identical to Solona's, only it lacked the warmth her dulcet tones possessed. "Eziel?"

-_At your service.-_

"More like at Leliana's service," he grumbled under his breath.

-_Oh, so you know about our little escapades?-_

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a _complete_ moron. I do have ears you know. I'd almost thought it was Solona going into Leliana's tent late at night, only I know how uncomfortable Leliana's preaching makes Sol, and I also know she prefers the company of men. That paired with the sight of you kissing her that one night in camp…"

-_She is a welcome diversion, that much I'll admit.-_

"I doubt Solona likes the idea of her body being used just so you can get a cheap thrill."

-_What she likes or dislikes is of little concern to me.-_

"I thought as much," he remarked irritably. "How are you doing this anyway, talking to me in my head?"

-_There isn't much I can't do…-_

"I find that more than a little frightening," Alistair said drily.

-_Enough of this prattling. I wish to speak with the apostate witch. Only she has the skill necessary to reanimate this body.-_

Alistair narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What do you want Morrigan to do?"

-_Those bastards coated their flail with poison, and the only reason Solona isn't dead is because I am now inhabiting this body. Unfortunately the body is useless since the poison has set it in a state of paralysis.-_

The implications of what Eziel had told him struck Alistair and his stomach dropped. "You mean to say that right now, Solona is supposed to be dead, but since you're here, she's not? Her spirit is in some kind of near death limbo?"

_-Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. I am the only thread binding her to this realm. I can slow the poison's progress, but I can't destroy it completely. Soon her muscles and vital organs will begin to atrophy and die.-_

"If that's true, why aren't _you _dead?"

_-I don't die.-_

"How is that even possible?" Alistair asked incredulously.

_-Stop asking questions. If you refuse to summon Morrigan to me, at least tell her to create a potion made from two parts lifestone, four parts elfroot.-_

Alistair hopped to his feet and stalked over to Morrigan's tent. "She'd better not be lying about this," he muttered to himself. The witch was warming her hands over her campfire when he arrived. She glanced up at him and pinned him with a scathing look.

"What do you want?" she spat.

He ignored her tone. He had more important things to worry about than the bitch-witch's bad attitude. "Eziel is still present in Solona's body. She told me that she was poisoned, and you need to make the antidote for her. She mentioned that it was made up of two parts lifestone, four parts elfroot…does that mean anything to you?"

Morrigan cursed under her breath. "I should have known. I had thought she was simply parted from her body due to the intense pain she was suffering…" her features softened considerably, and for once, Alistair saw the woman that Solona had so adamantly defended in the past. He still held nothing but contempt for the woman, but perhaps she wasn't as vile as he'd previously thought. "I hope that this Eziel knows what she is talking about. If we administer the wrong antidote, it could very well kill her. Many poisons act in a similar fashion to a serpent's bite. The proper anti-venom will save you, the wrong one will kill you."

Alistair went cold at that thought. "It could kill her?"

"Yes, though there is little point in debating the issue. If we do not administer the antidote, she most assuredly _will _die," the apostate pointed out. "Give me twenty minutes, and I will have the potion ready."

Alistair nodded and returned to Solona's side. He reached out and took her hand, which was ice cold. He massaged her palm with his thumb and turned his gaze onto Jowan once again. "Is she back?"

The blood mage nodded. "Yes, she's sitting right next to you, on your left."

"Sol, I don't know if you heard, but Eziel said that she knows what's wrong with you. Morrigan is working on the cure right now…but apparently it could be fatal…do you want us to do this?" Alistair asked.

Jowan spoke after a few moments. "She said that she wants the cure and that when she wakes up she has something for you."

"She does? What is it?"

"She says you'll find out soon enough."

Alistair groaned. "Oh Maker, I hope it's not a kick in the head."

"She's laughing now," Jowan said.

"Is she?" he cleared his throat and shifted his weight slightly. "What does it sound like? I-I've never heard her laugh before."

Jowan smiled at Alistair knowingly and inclined his head. "It's ridiculously infectious, and somewhat throaty, though I'm not in the habit of describing anyone's laughter. Hers is very lovely though. I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities to hear it for yourself."

Before Alistair could reply, Morrigan approached. She held a flask in her hand filled with a greenish orange viscous fluid. She knelt next to Solona's body and glanced at Alistair. "You will need to hold her up while I administer the antidote."

Alistair nodded and gingerly lifted Solona into an upright position. He held his breath as Morrigan managed to pry open her mouth and poured in the potion. "How long until we know whether or not it worked?" he asked.

"Within minutes," Morrigan replied without taking her eyes off of her task.

Because she was paralyzed, Alistair noted that her throat didn't work to swallow the substance. It was almost as though the liquid simply slid down her esophagus. He silently prayed that she wouldn't choke or cough it all back up again…Could she even cough in this state? His mind cycled through several ridiculous questions as he continued to hold her firmly against his chest.

"There, now we wait," Morrigan announced.

The minutes ticked by, and still Solona showed no sign of waking. Morrigan glanced around, a frown etched upon her features. "I do not see her anywhere…"

"She disappeared when you'd given her about half the potion," Jowan called out.

Solona's breath suddenly grew laboured. Morrigan uttered a curse. "She lied to us," the witch snapped angrily. "That was not the proper antidote. Now the Warden will most likely perish!" No sooner had she spoken the words, Alistair heard a sharp rattle emitted from Solona's chest. His grip around her waist tightened as she expelled one last breath.

"No," he whispered disbelievingly. "It's not possible…"

"She is gone," Morrigan murmured.

Alistair's eyes fell shut. Tears stung the back of his lids, and they threatened to spill any second. But he refused to let the witch witness his sorrow. She would do little more than mock him for showing such weakness in the face of trage-

Solona wheezed loudly and inhaled. She began hacking, spittle spraying past her lips as she groaned. "Son of a whore," she rasped.

"Sol?" Alistair cried out. He hugged her tightly to him for fear that she would slip out of his grasp, and his life, yet again.

"Easy, Alistair. You're going to puncture one of my lungs," Solona croaked.

Alistair winced and loosened his hold on her. "Sorry…I'm just so happy you're okay."

Solona grunted. "I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm okay…but I'm alive…sort of."

"I believe my work here is done," Morrigan smirked and got to her feet. "In future, Warden, try to avoid the Templars."

"Easy for you to say, they aren't running around with a flask full of _your_ blood," Solona retorted. Morrigan chuckled and wandered back to her tent. Solona attempted a smile, but it was much too painful. "Do you think I could have some water?"

Alistair nodded and carefully pulled away from her. He jogged over to the skin of water that was resting just next to his bedroll. When he returned, Solona was sitting upright. "Don't you think you should be taking it easy?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I managed a minor healing spell. You'd be surprised how much it helps," she explained. Now that she'd mentioned it, the swelling and bruising in her face had gone down considerably. Though she suddenly appeared slightly nervous, and Alistair couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking about. She seemed to have something clutched in her left hand. She reached out with her right hand to take the water, which she drank greedily. Rivulets of water slid down her chin, and Alistair resisted the urge to reach out and gently wipe them away with the tips of his fingers (or his tongue). When she'd drunk her fill, she handed the skin back to him. "Remember I said I had something for you?"

Alistair nodded by way of reply. He watched as she held out her left hand and let the contents of it dangle free. He gasped when he recognized the object swinging to and fro from her thumb and index finger. "That…that's my mother's amulet. But it's not broken. Where did you find it?"

"At Castle Redcliff. Bann Teagan said that it was yours and that the Arl never got a chance to give it to you. I didn't realize what it was until I heard you talking about it," Solona replied.

Alistair shook his head bewilderedly. "I can't believe he had it all this time."

"Perhaps you meant more to him than you thought," she suggested.

"Maybe you're right," Alistair conceded. Suddenly, his brow furrowed. "Wait a second, I mentioned the amulet when your friend Jowan said that you were gone…"

Solona's mouth opened and shut several times. A dark blush coloured her cheeks and neck. "I-I wasn't there…that is to say-"

"You little minx," he teased. "You were listening the whole time, weren't you?" She bit her lip and glanced away. Alistair reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. "What did you think about what you heard?"

"It made me sad to think that you'd felt alone for so long…but happy that I mean something to you," her voice was barely above a whisper.

Alistair grinned at her. "If I'd known such an outpouring of emotion would have such an effect on you, I would have done it sooner," he said cheekily. "Though, at the moment, I think actions speak louder than words." He leaned in and captured her lips with his. He nearly let out a howl of triumph when she moaned softly against his mouth. Instead, he growled and nipped at her lips playfully before leaning back and pulling her into his lap. She straddled his hips and giggled. _Giggled!_ He couldn't take it anymore. His tongue darted past his lips and sought entry to her mouth. She obliged eagerly and soon their tongues were duelling each other for possession. He knew she would be able to _feel_ just how much he wanted her.

"Maker's breath, Lonnie! Get a room!"

Solona broke away from the kiss and Alistair let out a frustrated sigh. While he didn't want to rush into anything, he was having a bloody good time. "Sorry Jowan," she said, though she sounded anything but.

"Maybe we should toss him back in the Tower," Alistair grumbled.

Solona laughed and slapped his shoulder. "If we can handle Zevran, than I'm sure we can put up with Jowan. Besides, I've been collecting cast offs this entire journey, why stop now?"

"The fate of the nation rests in the hands of a band of lunatics. _That's_ comforting," Alistair remarked wryly.

Solona rolled her eyes, an impish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "There is no great genius without some touch of madness." She winked and kissed the tip of his nose.


	15. Love Potion Number 9

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own DA, I own this very lovely new pair of boots. Nat I think you'd like them!

**A/N: **Okay it was a bit longer than I'd anticipated between updates, I apologize. But I really wanted to put out the idea that all women are beautiful, regardless of shape, size, race, etc. I think this chapter plays on our insecurities, and shows that beauty truly is in everything…except maybe raisins. As always, thank you to silent readers, reviewers, and that special someone…you know who you are!

* * *

_And just maybe, I'm to blame for all I've heard  
I'm not sure  
I'm so excited, I can't wait to meet you there  
And I don't care  
I'm so horny, that's okay my will is good_

_I like it I'm not gonna crack  
I miss you I'm not gonna crack  
I love you I'm not gonna crack_

_~Lithium – Nirvana~_

By the time the group had arrived at the outskirts of the Mountain Pass, Solona was almost completely healed. The bruises on her face had faded considerably, and the welts on her back were nothing more than angry, mottled scars. They took a small rest before following the treacherous path leading straight to Orzammar. Solona made a small campfire, and Wynne prepared a light meal for them. As she waited for the food, Solona wandered over to where Alistair sat. Things had been a touch awkward between them since the kiss they'd shared. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant awkwardness, but more of a sense of nervous excitement at the prospect of a new depth to their relationship. As she sat next to him, she felt his heated gaze on her. She sensed that he wanted to pull her closer, but his need to act the part of the gentleman clearly held him in check.

"You have the treaties on you, right?" Solona asked. She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks and she felt like cursing. Since when had she been the bashful sort? In the Tower, relations of a carnal nature had always come and gone without much thought. Certainly there'd only been two men that she had full blown sexual relations with, but she'd dallied with other mages, stealing kisses in dark corners, playful fondling in broom closets. Regardless of the nature of the intimacy, the acts had never left her feeling shy or unsure of herself. Yet with Alistair, she was constantly questioning if she was doing the right thing, wondering how and why he seemed to be attracted to her. It defied logic.

"Yes, they're in my pack over there," he gestured to the other side of the camp fire with his chin. He made to retrieve them, but Solona held up a hand.

"I'll get them, don't worry." She went over to his pack and began to rummage through it. Eventually her fingers closed around a piece of parchment, which she figured would be one of the treaties. She extracted the grimy looking parchment and began to scan its contents. She knew straight away that what she held was definitely _not_ part of the ancient treaties.

_Duncan,_

_I heard tell that your search for a recruit in Highever was not a success. It is a shame that the Cousland boy was killed in the siege of their castle. I write you this letter with another candidate in mind. There is a young mage whose powers know no equal. I believe that she will prove integral in our fight against the Blight. Duncan you __must__ recruit this young woman, no matter what the cost. Her name is Solona Amell, and she is currently living amongst her fellow mages at Kinloch Hold. Conscript her if you must; drag her kicking and screaming from the Tower if that is what it takes. It is imperative that she join the Order. I will explain everything when next we meet._

_First Warden_

_Weisshaupt Fortress_

Solona frowned and re-read the letter. The First Warden had asked for her specifically? Was that the reason why Duncan had followed through with recruiting her, even after she'd been made Tranquil? She couldn't understand why she was of any interest to the First Warden. She knew that she was better than some when it came to wielding her powers, but to have someone that important take note of her existence? It boggled the mind. "Alistair," she called out. "Do you know anything about this?"

He sidled up next to her, peering over her shoulder. "Nope, it's news to me. I never knew the First Warden had taken a personal interest in you. That letter must have gotten mixed up with the treaties…unless Duncan wanted you to find it…" he trailed off, and Solona wondered if he was contemplating the different reasons the First Warden would want her recruited – that is until she felt his breath tickling the nape of her neck. He inhaled deeply. "You smell really good," his voice had suddenly become deep and throaty.

"I…Zevran gave me this aromatherapy stuff as a gift. He said it might help with meditation and spell casting, and to dab a bit behind my ears and on my chest…he called it…night-blooming jasmine," she felt his fingers gently lift her hair from her right shoulder, and he knelt in close, his nose nuzzling the curve of her neck. His lips were so close to her skin, she felt his tongue against her flesh as it flitted out to lick his lips. He wrapped a muscular arm around her waist, drawing her closer. "Alistair—I—"

The heat of his breath against her neck was driving her wild, and the warmth from his body was rolling off of him in waves. "I—I know I shouldn't be behaving in such a manner, but you just smell—so bloody good…I smell the jasmine, but I also smell _you_, your desire. I don't know how I know that that's what it is that I smell…I just do." His lips parted to nibble at the sensitive skin of her neck. He was distinctly aware of the pulse at her throat, and the blood that pumped there. He had an overwhelming urge to bite at the flesh of her shoulder and mark her as his. He'd never felt like such an animal, and the feeling was more than a little frightening. His head was swimming with images, and he felt the taint coursing through their veins.

"Ah, I see you have taken a shine to the perfume that I procured for the lovely Warden," came an all-too-familiar Antivan lilt.

"What are you talking about?" came Alistair's muffled reply.

Zevran shrugged a shoulder. "I was growing weary of watching your sad little attempts at wooing our darling Solona. So I offered her a famous Crow concoction. It is a perfume that will cause any man or woman that is attracted to you to become wild with desire. Though the desire isn't fabricated, it simply lowers someone's inhibitions." He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Leliana eyeing Solona hungrily. "Though perhaps I used a bit too much." Zevran wandered over to Leliana and engaged her in deep conversation, distracting her from Solona.

Solona frowned, inching away from Alistair. "So you only feel this way because of that perfume?" She rolled on to her knees, readying herself for the long haul up the mountain. She'd barely taken a step when arms like tree trunks wrapped around her abdomen. She knew exactly whose broad, muscular chest she was pressed against, and she knew exactly whose lips had dipped in to nibble at her earlobe. "Alistair!" she hissed. "People will see!"

"I don't care," he murmured. His hands were traveling a dangerous path upward to the ample swell of her breasts. "I need you – right _now_."

Solona opened her mouth to reply when several shouts reached them. "Look boys, seems like we don't gotta go serchin' fer them Wardens after all! Loghain's payin' a pretty sum of money fer yer heads!"

Alistair glanced up and cursed. He firmly pushed Solona behind him and unsheathed his sword and brought his shield around from his back. Solona rolled her eyes and readied a spell. She shot forth several potent rounds of chain lightning, and aimed a fireball at the bounty hunter leader. Unfortunately, she didn't notice the stealthy rogue slide in behind her. The sneaky bugger would have sliced and diced her if Sten hadn't lopped his head from his shoulders. Luckily the brute only managed a shallow cut from her chin to the area just between her collar bones (not that her collar bones were really all that visible, covered as they were with her extra bit of flesh, har har) Solona glanced up. "Thank you Sten, you really saved me there."

For a moment the qunari didn't reply. His eyes had glazed over, and his lips were slightly parted. He took a step toward her. "You must be more careful of those who would flank you, or come at you from behind," he rumbled. He reached out with a bronzed index finger, letting the pad trail a line from her chin to the hollow of her throat, gathering the blood that had trickled there. He brought his finger to his lips and sucked on it hungrily, his eyelids fluttering. Solona was completely speechless, and for some reason, utterly aroused. "I—I'll be sure to be more careful next time," she whispered hoarsely. Zevran's previous words echoed in her head: _Though the desire isn't fabricated, it simply lowers someone's inhibitions. _Solona's throat went dry. _Sten?_ Nah, it couldn't be. He probably just respected her on some level or something. His gaze lingered on her a moment before he pointed behind her to the others. "I believe the other mercenaries have been dispatched." He stepped past her and the two of them headed toward the surface area of Orzammar. Neither one said a word of what had transpired between them.

Several humans and surface dwarves advertised their wares. Solona didn't find many very interesting. She was still searching for a staff. She supposed she could circle all the way back to the Tower, but she just didn't have it in her. She was eying a set of Archon robes that a mage (obviously an apostate) was willing to part with for three sovereigns. Solona's eyes bugged out of her skull. "Three? Are you out of your bleeding mind? I'm not paying anymore than one."

The balding apostate looked positively flummoxed by her counter-offer. "These are fine quality robes! Two and a half sovereigns and not a copper less."

"Why you sneaky –"

"There a problem here?" came a warm, familiar voice from over her shoulder.

The apostate rolled his eyes. "Yes, this tubby wench won't be reasonable! These robes are clearly of superior make and worth three whole sovereigns." The man sneered at Solona, and she resisted the urge to give herself the tiniest cut and cast Blood Wound on the smarmy little shit. Unfortunately she figured Alistair, who was the one who'd just joined their little bartering session, probably wouldn't take kindly to that.

"Can I have a look at it? After all, we men know the true value of things," he smiled at the apostate and gave Solona a patronizing pat on the head. _Of all the…!_ Solona's magic was rising to dangerous levels. She felt the familiar prickling sensation on her skin which signified she was about to cast something _big._ She was just about to let loose a fury of wrath when Alistair reached forward and grasped the robes, his fingers brushing against the merchant's hand. All colour drained from the mage's face as Alistair gripped his wrist. The mage's lip began quivering and his hand started shaking. "Oh I don't know," Alistair mused. "I'd say these aren't worth any more than, say, ten silver." The balding mage sputtered until he caught sight of Alistair's quirked eyebrow. "Unless of course you'd like me to escort you to Kinloch Hold to have them properly appraised."

The apostate shook his head vigorously. "No no, ten silvers is fine, they're yours! Take them."

"My thanks," Alistair bowed his head mockingly. He slipped his arm into Solona's and was about to turn heel when a thought struck him. He pinned the mage with a withering glare. "By the by, if you _ever_ make a disparaging remark about this beautiful young woman ever again, the Circle Tower will be the least of your concerns. I trained as a templar, as you're surely aware, and I know some imaginative ways of making you suffer without ever actually leaving any marks on your body." He saluted to the quaking mage. "Cheerio!"

Solona hid a grin, her chin tucked to her chest. "You didn't have to do that…but thank you."

Alistair halted her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "No one should ever treat you that way. What he called you was…" he ground his teeth.

Solona chuckled bitterly. "I'm used to it by now. It's not like I look like Leliana or Morrigan."

Alistair frowned. "Why would you want to look like either of them?"

"Well, look at them! They're gorgeous! They've got bodies to die for, and they're all…you know."

He looked over at the two women in question and then back at Solona. "I'm going to tell you something that will most likely result in me being hit, or hated…but here goes…" he took a deep breath. "Personally, I don't think those two are all that appealing. I mean sure they're pretty and all, but nothing special. But you…you have the loveliest face, with all of those freckles and those deep obsidian eyes, and not to mention your lips should be outlawed in some countries."

Solona rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I have such a cute face. That's all I've got going for-" Alistair's hand covered her mouth.

"Let me finish," he admonished. "But the part that I love most about you is that positively luscious body. I'll probably get struck my lightening at any moment for even thinking this, but whenever I see those delicious curves swaying beneath those fitted breeches, and your breasts…" his cheeks were crimson, and his lids became heavy. "You have no idea how difficult it is not to touch you, or have you pinned beneath me at night. I know the Chantry prevented me from experiencing such things, but I've heard stories, and I have an imagination, and you couldn't even begin to fathom the wicked things I've done to you in my dreams."

Solona swallowed audibly. "That potion must be pretty potent. I mean, I knew you liked me…"

Alistair chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh my sweet mage, it goes much deeper than that." Without another word he turned and headed toward an argument that had broken out on the steps into Orzammar.

As Solona pulled up alongside her companions, she took note of a dwarf trying to tell some ugly buck toothed man to shove off.

"King Loghain will not suffer this-this complete lack of respect for his rule. I am his sworn messenger and I demand an audience with your lords or deshyrs, or whatever it is you people call them," cried out the whiny buck toothed man.

A stout black haired dwarf blocked the way, and was also surrounded by other dwarven guards. "Vaeta!" he exclaimed with a sweeping motion of his hand. "I don't care if you're the king's wiper, Orzammar is not open to outsiders and that's final."

Solona figured a more positive approach might help. She took a step forward. "_Atrast vala_," she greeted. "We've just heard you are no longer allowing entry to Orzammar. Might we know why?"

The dwarf seemed to warm to her respectful demeanour, and the fact that she greeted him in his own language. His expression softened. "Recently our king, King Endrin Aeducan, took ill after losing two of his sons. He expired recently and the assembly is in deadlock over who should rule over Orzammar."

Solona frowned. "I see," she turned to Alistair and shrugged a shoulder, as if saying, 'worth a shot'. "We are Grey Wardens, and have come to garner the support of our traditional Dwarven Allies." She reached out and handed the guard the dwarven treaty.

The guard perused the document. "This does bear the royal seal, and therefore can only be addressed by the assembly." He rolled up the treaty and handed it back to Solona. "Very well Wardens, you may pass. But tread lightly, your presence will no doubt cause quite a stir."

"You're letting in this…this…traitor? And an outsider? In the name of King Loghain I demand you wipe this stain from the face of existence!" the ugly Loghain messenger squawked.

"Fight if you must, just do it off the stairs," the dwarven guard muttered.

Solona grinned wickedly and launched a fireball at Loghain's lackeys. She then cast Cone of Cold , freezing the men in a case of ice. Mac, sensing it was his turn to join the battle, bashed into each ice bloom, shattering the men into millions of tiny pieces. She patted Mac on the head and then scratched his ears affectionately. "Good boy." Mac barked and licked her fingers. The two of them rejoined the group, and the lead dwarf had an amused expression on his face.

"You did me a favour, he's been barking at me for weeks. Are all humans this touched in the head?" he asked.

Solona smirked. "Only the ones whose barks are bigger than their bites...and the king's wiper apparently. I mean, would you like wiping the king's arse day in and day out?" The dwarf chuckled and escorted them through the main gate into the Hall of Heroes. Solona was in awe of all of the statues. Each one depicted a Paragon. She'd done intense studying on dwarven culture, and therefore knew which Paragon each statue represented. With the lull in activity, Solona pulled Jowan, who'd taken to travelling with them, aside. "I need your help."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Sure, anything for you Lonnie."

She beamed and held out her newly purchased Archon robes. "I need you to help me get into these."

Jowan nearly choked. "Maybe you should get a female to help with this particular task."

Solona rolled her eyes. "Come on, Wynne would just fuss over the short skirt, Morrigan couldn't be bothered, and Leliana…well, she may put a move on me. You're like my brother. Please Jowan?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"Oh alright, let's go behind that statue over there." They started struggling with the robes. Her regular clothes were easy enough to get off, but the robes had tons of intricate straps and buckles. They even came with their own frilly pair of small clothes, which Jowan blushed at. Finally, after half an hour of fighting with the garment, they were all done. Solona took a step back, her arms akimbo. Jowan gaped at her. "That bad huh?"

He cleared his throat. "No, it's just…I never knew you have so many curves…" his gaze travelled from neck to chest, to hips and thighs, all the way back up to neck.

"Yeah I know, I'm a bit too plump for them. Maybe I should get rid of them-"

"No no!" Jowan cut her off, holding up his hands. "Keep them, they suit you!"

Solona gazed at him uncertainly. "Well, if you say so…"

"I know so," he winked. His features suddenly turned devious. "Hey, I think that fellow Alistair was looking for you. Said he had a gift."

Solona clasped her hands together, the motion causing quite a bit of jiggling, which wasn't lost on Jowan. "Oh! I love gifts! I'll go find him right away!" As she trotted off, Jowan shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. "That poor bloke is going to be in for one…bodacious surprise."

**~*O*~*O*~**

"Alright boy, you pad over to her, staff in hand. I know she'll love it. I can tell right off it's really powerful. Then if she asks who it's from, lead her to me. I'll be here admiring this statue like nothing's going on, got it?" Alistair had explained his instructions several times. When Mac had brought over the twisted piece of wood with carved symbols in it, he knew it was just the staff for Sol. He sent his hound off in search of Sol, staff in mouth. Alistair pretended to examine the statue when he heard Sol's approach.

"It's such a wonderful staff, much more powerful than the ones in the Tower. Where'd you get it?" she asked.

She couldn't see his grin, which widened when Mac barked. "Oh, did Alistair tell you to give it to me?"

Alistair turned toward his fellow Warden and froze. Gone were her breeches and tunic. In their stead was a set of robes that had his blood boiling. The skirt fell to mid thigh, and he could clearly see that her stockings were held up by garters. Several metal hoops adorned the midsection, acting as a sort of corset, which hefted her bosom up and out. A fur pauldron rested on her shoulders, held together by a clasp at her neck. She had one knee bent, which caused the fabric of her skirts to ride dangerously up one succulent thigh. She was leaning against the staff Mac had given her, eyebrows raised in question. He finally found his voice.

"Yes, well, Mac found it, but I knew you'd find use out of it. I'm sure you're great with staves – I mean big pieces of wood – I mean…" he ran a hand over his face. "I thought you'd like it."

Solona smiled widely, her obsidian eyes alight. "Yes, I like it very much. Thank you!" She stood up on her tip-toes and planted a kiss on his stubbled cheek. He could still detect that faint scent of jasmine, and with her body pressed so closely against his, he had to force his hands into fists to keep from accosting her as he had earlier, when he'd had less control of his faculties.

As they ventured through the Hall of Heroes, he only wondered just how long he'd be able to reign in his lust before he sought her out one night in a fit of desire. From the way her deliciously round arse swayed to and fro in those robes, he had a feeling that he'd last less than a day.

He was shaking his head to clear his thoughts when he heard trouble brewing just beyond the doors leading to the dwarven Common District. It seemed that two factions were in heavy debate: supporters for the dead king's only surviving son, Prince Bhelen, and the other group in favour of the king's long time advisor Lord Harrowmont. Eventually weapons were drawn and blood was shed. The dwarves scattered, the whole scene playing out in a matter of minutes.

"Stone forsaken fools! I'll not have blood shed on my watch, especially in front of outsiders!" shouted one dwarf that stayed behind.

Solona approached him, her smile sympathetic. "Things get violent so quickly in these troubled times."

The dwarf nodded sadly. "You're telling me…I take it you're seeking an audience with the assembly?" Solona nodded. "Then you'll want to head to the Chamber of the Assembly. Good luck getting heard, they're all a bunch of sodding fools."

Solona thanked him and turned to her companions. "Well, looks like we're headed for the Chamber of the Assembly. Shale, if anyone tries to kill us-"

"I shall crush their puny skulls," the golem replied.

Solona grinned wickedly and handed Shale a remarkable greenstone she'd been holding on to. "You got it! And here, I thought you might like this."

Shale's glowing eyes seemed to brighten even further. "It did not need to give me a gift in order to convince me to crush heads, but it can rest assured that _its_ head will most definitely _not_ be crushed."

Solona let out a peal of laughter and led her party through the massive halls of Orzammar.


	16. Day Tripper

**Disclaimer: **EA and Bioware own Dragon Age. I own this bottle of Sugar Fantasy body mist.

**A/N:** Apologies for the delay! Many thanks for your patience, my readers, reviewers, etc.

**Warning: **This chapter contains drug use.

* * *

_Hello darkness, my old friend  
I've come to talk with you again  
Because a vision softly creeping  
Left its seeds while I was sleeping  
And the vision that was planted in my brain  
Still remains  
Within the sound of silence_

_~The Sound of Silence – Simon and Garfunkel~_

Solona pinched the bridge of her nose. The voices were getting louder the further underground they travelled. The problem had started almost as soon as they'd entered the Commons, and grew progressively worse as they were sent to clear out Jarvia's group of thugs in Dust Town. At first the voices were unintelligible whispers. As she'd descended into Dust Town they were still whispers, only she was able to make out the occasional word. Some of those words included poison, chill, burn, and kill. The voices were possibly the most malevolent she'd ever heard, and they were slowly driving her mad. She'd asked Alistair if he heard them as well, but he said he was simply suffering from a constant sense of unease.

As she, Alistair and Leliana traipsed toward the entrance to the Deep Roads to seek out the Paragon Branka, they were stopped by a contingent of dwarven guards. Apparently there was some debate as to whether the Deep Roads had been built tall enough for humans. Suddenly, a red headed dwarf appeared. He looked mildly drunk, as he swayed slightly on his feet. He was seeking out the Warden, and Solona informed him that she was the one he was searching for. Apparently, he wasn't impressed.

"Well, regardless of whether or not I meet your expectations, we're heading into the Deeps. If you want to follow along to find your wife, you're more than welcome. Otherwise, you can shove off and let us do our job," Solona snapped. Normally she wouldn't be so coarse with a man she'd just met, but the idea that he didn't think her capable of accomplishing their task left her a bit prickly.

"Relax, Warden. I was pullin' yer pisser. The name's Oghren. I'm just happy someone is finally gettin' off their ass and lookin' fer my wife," Oghren chuckled and tugged on his flame coloured braided moustache.

Solona smirked. "Well, let's get a move on." She led the group to the opening of the Deeps. She'd taken no more than a step inside of the cavernous entrance when the voices in her head started screeching. She doubled over, her hands covering her ears. Tears sprung to her eyes as the voices cursed her and tried to convince her to slaughter her friends. Images of blood and charred bodies assaulted her. She was dimly aware of Alistair by her side, asking her what was wrong.

One voice managed to reach her and offer some small comfort.

_-It's because you're so close to the darkspawn horde, elska. You need a way of quieting their screams.-_

"How do I do that?"Solona asked through clenched teeth. She wasn't sure if Eziel would actually be able to help, but at that point, she was willing to try anything.

_-Grind up some lyrium dust, fire crystal, and elfroot. Sprinkle it into a pipe and smoke it. It should silence the voices for a while. Keep a supply with you while you travel through the Deeps.-_

Clutching her head, Solona lurched over to Leliana. "Are you carrying any herbs?" Her voice was coarse and barely above a whisper.

Leliana shook her head, eyeing her friend worriedly. "No, but I will fetch Morrigan. She should have some." With the speed and grace of a cat, Leliana loped off toward the tavern the group was staying at.

Alistair placed an arm around Solona's shoulders. He had no idea what she was going through. He certainly felt incredibly uncomfortable this close to the Deep Roads. The pull of the Darkspawn taint was overwhelming. But he didn't hear any voices.

Morrigan sashayed over to them, one eyebrow raised in question. "The Warden wishes to ask me something?"

Solona nodded weakly. "I…I need some fire crystal…lyrium dust…and elfroot…"

The witch pursed her lips, and she tapped her booted toe against the cold stone floor. "I have these items, as well as the cob pipe you will no doubt require to ingest the resulting powder…I must warn you: take no more than two sprinkles at a time."

"Why? What's going on? What's she taking?" Alistair demanded.

Morrigan ignored him and began grinding the ingredients together in her mortar and pestle. She then extracted an ornate pipe from her satchel and detached the bowl from the stem of the pipe. She sprinkled some of her concoction into the bowl and re-attached it to the stem. "Do you know how to use a narcotic pipe?"

"You're giving her narcotics?" Alistair cried out.

Morrigan scowled at him. "It will ease her pain. Would you prefer her to travel into the Deep Roads while completely incapacitated? 'Twould be the death of her, surely." She returned her attention to Solona. "The pipe; do you know how to use it?"

Solona shook her head, causing a sharp pain to shoot down her spine.

"Very well, I shall demonstrate," the shape shifter held the stem of the pipe to her lips while sparking a flame with her index finger. She held the flame to the bowl and inhaled deeply. She held her breath for several seconds, then exhaled through her nose. Smoke billowed from her nostrils in delicate tendrils, and it smelled of burnt honey and elderberry. She held the pipe out for Solona, who took it between her fingers.

Solona gazed at the pipe uncertainly. _–Trust me, elska. You will feel much better.-_ She inhaled from the pipe and immediately began coughing. She gagged several times before she attempted inhaling again. This time she was able to hold the smoke in. As she exhaled, she couldn't help but notice the way that her robes rubbed against her skin. The material was soft and felt like a thousand kisses on her flesh. She inhaled from the pipe once again, and her head began to swim. The voices had quieted, and soon all she heard was the sound of her blood rushing between her ears. She could also hear the steady beating of her heart. She glanced at Morrigan, whose full lips were turned up in a decidedly mischievous manner. The witch leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair behind Solona's ear and glided her fingertips down the side of Solona's face, trailing ever downward, from the column of her throat to the valley between her breasts. The contact of skin against skin sent a shiver down Solona's spine.

"I had almost forgotten its potency," Morrigan said, her voice as smooth as silk. Her pupils were dilated, and she began weaving imaginary patterns in front of her face.

Solona giggled as the world took on a violet hue. "Okay, I think I'm ready to get going."

"You can't fight like this? Maker, Solona, you're stoned!" Alistair exclaimed.

"And I'm drunk, so who cares? Let's just get on with it!" Oghren bellowed. He started chuckling when Solona knelt down and ran her fingers through his long, unkempt moustache, a moue of wonder escaping her lips.

Alistair sighed and motioned for Leliana to follow, who was staring at Solona, her mouth agape. Alistair took Solona's hand in his and led her to the mouth of the cavern, readying himself for whatever dangers they might face.

'*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*'

"They won't die…" Solona frowned, shaking out her hand. They'd reached Ortan Thaig, and the entire time she'd had to _fight_ the darkspawn. They didn't seem to want to just die by her hand as they usually did.

"Maybe it's because we're so close to the archdemon," Alistair suggested. He glanced around at the piles of darkspawn corpses. He turned to face Solona once again, and noticed that she was taking another long pull on her pipe. "Are you sure you should be smoking that so often?"

Solona made a face at Alistair. "Don't be such a killjoy. It stops them from telling me to kill you."

Leliana cast a worried glance at Alistair. "Can she become addicted to this substance?"

Alistair frowned. "Quite possibly. There's lyrium in it, and we all know just how wacky the Templars get when they haven't had their daily dose." He moved toward his fellow Warden when Leliana grabbed hold of his forearm.

"I-I need to say something to you," she said softly.

He tilted his head to one side. "What is it?"

The bard took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I should not have…cavorted with the Warden while she was under Eziel's power. It was wrong of me, especially since Solona would never have done such a thing if she was in control of her body. Not only did Eziel take advantage of her, I did as well. It's just…I fell in love with her…with her beauty, and the way she seemed to make everything better. I haven't felt that way since I was living in Orlais. But now I see my actions were wrong. Solona is in love with you, and I will not stand in the way. I hope you can forgive me." Leliana's bright blue eyes shone with tears, and Alistair couldn't help but feel sorry for her. He knew how manipulative Eziel could be, and Leliana was hardly at fault.

"Of course you're forgiven, Leliana. But I think you've got it a bit wrong. Solona's not in love with me," he replied, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Leliana let loose a small giggle. "You obviously don't see the way she stares at you when you're not looking. Ah well, soon it will all become clear." She winked at Alistair and trotted over to where Oghren was busy prying his axe out of an ogre.

Alistair jogged over to Solona, who had apparently finished her drug consumption. "How are you feeling?"

She smiled widely and stood on her tip-toes, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Much better thank you."

Alistair slid his arms around Solona's waist and inhaled the scent of her hair. She smelled of the smoke she'd been inhaling, as well as jasmine. "I'm just worried about you…you know I wouldn't be able to function if something happened to you."

"Oh, Alistair I'll be—DARKSPAWN!" Solona shot a bolt of chain lightning toward several hurlocks and shrieks that were racing toward them. Since Alistair was in such close proximity when Solona had cast her spell, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, as well as a pulse of energy flow through his veins. He had to admit, it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation. He briefly wondered how it would feel should the two of them be the throes of passion…He shook his head in an attempt to get back in battle mode. He'd been so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed Solona wander off toward a fresh pile of…

"Oooh, lyrium dust! I best it works even better when you inject it…"she murmured. She extracted her dagger from her boot and sliced at the palm of her hand.

Alistair's mouth dropped open. He knew the kind of harm straight lyrium could cause. He needed to get to Solona before it was too late. He watched with mounting horror as she lowered her blood soaked hand to the pile of lyrium dust, her lips pulled back in a giddy grin. _I'm not going to make it!_ He thought futilely.

Solona's eyes were tearing up. She could think of nothing more beautiful than becoming one with the very source that brought her such power. Fat drops of blood splashed onto the dust, and her heart hammered in her chest. Just a few more inches, and she'd be filled with the dust's secrets…

A thick, meaty hand clasped her wrist in a viselike grip. "Not so fast, sweet cheeks. Bein' stoned outta yer gourd is one thing, but drivin' yerself completely insane is another."

Solona frowned at the hair covered knuckles then slowly turned her head to face the source. "Let me go, Oghren! I want to be the Lyrium Princess!"

"And I wanna be this year's Mr. Tapster's. Unfortunately we can't always get what we want," the red headed dwarf grunted.

Solona's pupils dilated further. "But sometimes…just sometimes…we get what we need." With her free hand she grabbed a handful of the lavender dust. She smeared it into her open wound. She gave a hiss of satisfaction as the powder made its way through her bloodstream. Arcane knowledge forced its way into her mind's eye. The sheer strength of its energy was almost too much for her to handle. She fell to the ground, her limbs a mass of twitching nerves and muscles. Alistair grabbed hold of her shoulders in an attempt to steady her, but in her lyrium overdosed state it was impossible to control her. She began frothing at the mouth, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

"What do we do?" Alistair bellowed. "I've never dealt with lyrium overdose!"

Oghren stared down at her, tugging at his braided moustache. "I'm not sure there's anything we _can _do for her...I've never see anyone take in that much straight lyrium dust and survive…"

Leliana slid over to the group, skidding to a halt as she took in Solona's convulsing form. "What happened?"

"She mainlined lyrium…straight into her bloodstream…" Alistair whispered. He knelt forward and kissed Solona's forehead, then wiped the foam from her lips. Solona's eyelids fluttered shut, and Alistair let loose an anguished moan. "Not again, damn it!"

"_Relax, Warden. I'm purging it from her system…"_

Leliana's hands flew to her ears. "What in the name of the Maker was that?" When she pulled her hands away from her ears, they were soaked with blood.

"That's Eziel's real voice," Alistair mumbled, his own blood dripping onto Solona's cheeks. His love's eyes opened and they were the same flat onyx colour they'd been when she'd first started channelling Eziel. Eziel's tongue snaked out of her mouth and she licked up the blood that had fallen onto her cheeks.

"_You taste wonderful, Warden…Perhaps when all of this Blight business is over I can sneak in between your legs and drink from that wonderful femoral artery of yours…I assure you, you'll enjoy every second of it…"_

Alistair shuddered. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass. What do you mean you're purging Solona?"

"_The lyrium overdose; I'm removing the excess. I intend to leave a touch behind, because it will cause some…interesting changes." _

Alistair's head was pounding from the sound of so many malevolent voices laced together and spewing forth from Eziel's lips. "What kind of changes?"

"_You'll find out…eventually. The deed is done. Your woman is cured._" Eziel's eyes fell shut once again. Once they opened, Alistair was relieved to see Solona's beautiful obsidian irises staring back at him.

"What happened?" she croaked.

Alistair ran his fingers through her hair. "You had a bit of a lyrium overdose…but you're fine now."

"Well that was stupid of me," Solona frowned. She let out a hiss as she tried to raise herself to a seated position. She glanced down at the palm of her hand and winced at the dirt and lyrium caked into her wound. "Certainly not one of my shining moments," she mumbled. She whispered under her breath and a bright white light surrounded the cut. The flesh knit together and left no scar behind. "That's strange…"

"What?" Alistair asked.

"Usually I leave scars behind when I heal any wounds…"

Alistair shrugged a shoulder. "Eziel mentioned the lyrium overdose might cause some changes. Maybe that's one of them."

"Maybe," Solona said uncertainly. She flexed her hand several times and found that she experienced no pain. "Well, looks like I'll find out the extent of these changes over time."

"Hey! Get over here ya buncha nug-suckers! I think I found somethin'!" Oghren called out from several yards away.

Alistair helped Solona to her feet and they wandered over to where Oghren was kneeling over a large tome. "What is it?" the mage asked.

"It's Branka's journal…according to this she headed into the Dead Trenches!" Oghren exclaimed.

Solona shrugged a shoulder. "Then I guess that's where we're going."

-_Be careful elska. I cannot help you in the Dead Trenches. You will be too close to the archdemon…It will sense me within you, and seek to destroy you. It will speak to you and try to trick you. Listen only to your fellow Warden, and no one else. If you fail to heed my advice, you will most assuredly die.-_

"Why are you so eager to help me, Eziel?" Solona whispered.

_-Because we are one and the same, elska. If you die…all hope for me is lost. Be ever vigilant, elska. You are my only hope.-_

"Nice to know I'm needed…" Solona mumbled. She nodded to Alistair and the rest of the gang, and led them toward the fiery pits of the Dead Trenches.


	17. CHUD

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age. I own a new hamster named Bill Murray!

**A/N: **I apologize for the ridiculously long delay. The holiday season was incredibly busy, and I didn't have much time to write. Another warm thanks to readers and reviewers. :D

* * *

_I will only complicate you  
Trust in me and fall as well  
I will find a centre in you  
I will chew it up and leave...Trust me..._

_~Sober – Tool~_

He was everywhere. He was inside her, around her, above and below her. She heard his mocking laughter echoing in her head. She pressed her fingers to her temple to try and ease the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. She caught the worried glances that her companions shot her way.

"You alright, Warden? Yer lookin' a little green," Oghren pointed out.

Solona nodded, though she felt far from alright. In fact, she felt like she would vomit any second. Eziel had mentioned that the archdemon would try and trick her, but he had yet to speak to her, he simply laughed at her distress. She was so wrapped up in her pain that she nearly took Alistair's head off when he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you want to turn back?" he asked gently.

"No, we need to find Branka so we can obtain the dwarves' help. I'll be alright," she replied. She forced a small smile in an attempt to reassure him, though by the expression on his face the smile obviously wasn't tricking him.

As they continued to march through the ancient structures within the Trenches, Solona noted that the walls and floors were covered in rotting flesh. Several pink pods held various treasures. She wondered idly if the pods had consumed any would be scavengers, leaving naught behind but their belongings. They found some armour for Alistair, and Solona tried to ignore the fact that he looked rather frightening when he pulled the helm over his head. Sort of like an executioner, ready to lop off her head at the first sign of indiscretion.

"Do you hear that?" Leliana suddenly asked.

Solona tilted her head and tried to block out the archdemon's laughter. She vaguely heard a woman reciting some sort of rhyme. When they drew close enough she was able to make out what the disembodied voice was saying…the content sent a chill down her spine.

"If she's been down here, she's probably lost her sodding mind," Oghren said.

Alistair lifted the visor to his Legion plate helm and glanced at Oghren. "That doesn't say much for this Branka we're supposed to be looking for now, does it?"

Oghren scowled at him but chose not to answer.

They entered a room and found a female dwarf. She was apparently the one chanting, and she didn't look good. Her eyes had a layer of milky film coating them, and her clothes were tattered and bloody.

"Who are you?" Solona asked warily.

The dwarf turned her gaze on Solona, eyes slightly narrowed. "A human? Bland and unlikely…"

"Don't be calling the Warden bland, you rug-munching poetess! She may be tall, but at least she's not as bony as the rest of the humans," Oghren growled.

Leliana frowned. "I am not _bony_."

Oghren chuckled. "Well, _parts _of ya aren't."

"Will you two please be quiet?" Solona knelt down and met the dwarven woman's gaze. She was entirely unresponsive. "I take it from your insult about her sexual orientation that you know her, Oghren?"

"Damn right I do. That's Hespith. She's the one that Branka started running around with before she and the rest of the House took off for that sodding anvil."

"Do not speak of Branka! I was her captain, and I did not stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her…but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become…" Hespith ran deeper into the bowels of the Trenches.

Leliana tilted her head to one side. "That was certainly…interesting."

"Maybe we should follow her," Solona suggested. "Sounds like she knows a thing or two about Branka."

The party fought their way through the spirits of several dwarves, as well as a few shrieks. They eventually heard Hespith's insane ramblings once again.

"She became obsessed, that is the word but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil. We tried to escape, but they found us. They took us all, turned us. The men, they kill... they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them. They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood. And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned gray and she smelled like them. They remade her in their image. Then she made more of them. Broodmother..."

They rounded a corner in a cavernous area, and Solona stopped dead in her tracks. The laughter in her head had finally ceased, only to be replaced with the wretched smacking sounds that the hideous broodmother emitted. She had never seen anything so corrupted, so vile. The darkspawn mother waved her tentacles about threateningly. With eyes wide as saucers Solona watched as the creature tilted back, exposing an expanse of soft underbelly. The flesh seemed to open up and from the folds a genlock was born. It was saturated in some sort of mucous. Solona heard Leliana gagging and coughing. The broodmother let loose a piercing shriek, which nearly sent Solona to her knees. Another genlock emerged from the broodmother's slit. The birthing process left the room smelling of putrid meat and sour milk. Solona swallowed the bile that had risen to her throat. No one moved for several drawn out minutes. Oghren was the first to break free of their stupor. He growled and rushed forward, plunging his axe into one of the broodmother's tentacles. Everyone sprang into action. Leliana loosed a flurry of arrows, and Alistair attacked the darkspawn as they appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. Solona tried her damndest to keep the party healed, while at the same time unleashing as much firepower as she could. Eventually she had to leave her companions to their own devices and instead concentrated on her most powerful primal spells. For a while the room was experiencing drastic changes in temperature depending on which element Solona manipulated. At one point a blizzard whipped around them while at the same time the air crackled with electricity. She heard Oghren bellow one last furious battle cry and then all was silent. Solona ceased casting and soon the room cleared. Leliana was leaning against a wall and her breathing was heavy but she seemed otherwise relatively unharmed. Oghren was busy dislodging his axe from the broodmother's throat. Finally Solona's gaze fell upon Alistair's battered form. He lay on the ground in a crumpled heap, his helm had somehow been tossed aside, and blood was pooling beneath his head.

"Dear Maker…" Leliana gasped.

Solona sprinted to Alistair's side to assess the damage. His skull appeared to be cracked. Blood continued to ooze from the wound, and Solona attempted to heal the area with her most powerful spell. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't seem to get the bone to knit back together. She let out a frustrated cry and shouted at Leliana to bring her a poultice from their injury kit. The bard complied, and Solona promptly slathered a generous helping of the healing substance to Alistair's scalp. Still, the injury continued to confound her.

"Perhaps we should leave him and try to get help…" Leliana suggested.

"No," Solona snapped. "I refuse to give up. I just need a bit more time…" She tried another healing spell to no avail. Her limbs were beginning to weaken with the exertion. She desperately needed a lyrium potion, but none were available, and she was loath to attempt mainlining again.

_-Eat of their flesh…-_

She shook her head to dispel the voice, but it persisted.

_-It will increase your abilities to unimaginable __heights…just eat of their flesh…-_

Solona wondered just whose flesh she was expected to eat, and she was also a little put off by the fact that the archdemon was communicating with her and trying to give her advice.

_-The flesh of the tainted…-_

"You've got to be joking," she mumbled.

"What're you babbling about, Warden?" Oghren asked.

Solona waved him off. "I'm talking to the voice in my head."

Oghren grunted. "Usually takes a few drinks before that happens to me."

She ignored him and concentrated on the archdemon.

_-Feast upon the flesh of the fallen ones…Great strength awaits you…-_

"Won't I turn into a ghoul?"

_-All of those with the taint in their blood eventually turn into the damned…As a Warden you know this better than most. Even you will submit to the taint…-_

Solona obviously didn't trust anything that could singlehandedly wipe out all of mankind, and was understandably hesitant to follow the demon's instructions. She chewed on her lower lip. If what the demon said was true, and the flesh of the darkspawn increased her abilities, then she might be able to properly heal Alistair. If it was lying…

"I think it best that we rest for now. That last battle took quite a bit out of me," Leliana said.

Solona nodded absently while running her fingers along Alistair's cracked skull. No matter how many times she attempted to heal it, nothing seemed to work. She slumped against one of the rocky walls and without much difficulty, fell into a deep sleep.

**~*O*~*O*~**

She was lying on the rocky shores of Lake Calenhad. It wasn't long before she realized that she was completely naked, but for some reason it didn't bother her in the least. The sun burned brightly, and its rays felt delightful against her skin. For the first time in ages she felt content, at peace.

"Interesting that you should dream about your old prison as a safe haven, _elska_."

Solona shielded her eyes with one hand and glanced up to see Eziel standing over her. She wore a white gown made of silk and her hair was piled haphazardly atop her head.

"What're you doing here, Z?" Solona asked. She still couldn't get used to talking to the mirror image of herself.

"I wanted to know what you're going to do about your friend Alistair," she replied.

Solona frowned and propped herself up on her elbows. "Well, the archdemon seems to have an opinion on that."

Eziel raised an eyebrow. "You're taking advice from an insane dragon? What exactly did the archdemon say?"

"Well, he…it…whatever, said that I should eat darkspawn. According to him, or it, the darkspawn will make me more powerful. I think it'll turn me into a slavering ghoul, but that's just me."

Eziel tilted her head to one side, seemingly sizing up Solona for some reason. The ex-Tranquil didn't like being scrutinized and shifted uncomfortably. Finally Eziel spoke. "You won't turn into a ghoul like regular people. You're a Warden, so the effects are marginally different."

"In what way?" Solona asked.

"The Blight beast was right. The darkspawn flesh will make you stronger, more powerful. However, the trade off is that it will accelerate the onset of your Calling," she explained.

"So instead of having thirty years to live, I'll have twenty-five?"

"Closer to twenty…it could shave off about ten years," Eziel replied.

Solona sighed. "Well, I guess that decides it…Do me a favour and wake me up, will you?"

**~*O*~*O*~**

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she sat up, mildly disoriented after such a quick nap. The archdemon had started cackling in her head again, and she was curious as to what he found so bloody amusing. She crawled over to Alistair and gazed down at him. She ran her fingers through his hair, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. She heard Oghren snoring loudly, and was able to make out Leliana's sleeping form lying several feet away from her. She glanced around until her eyes finally settled on a hurlock's decaying corpse. She stood and wandered over to it, resigned to her task. She knelt and extracted the filet knife from her boot and sliced into the darkspawn's flesh. She managed to carve out a substantial piece. The hunk of skin and muscle felt greasy, and the blood that oozed from the wound caused her own flesh to tingle. She lifted the morsel to her lips and bit into it. Solona had never tasted anything so wretched in her entire life, including the blood from the Joining. She just barely managed to chew the meat without gagging and was practically forced to swallow it whole. She coughed a few times and cut another chunk out of the corpse.

_-Good girl…eat, drink and be merry!- _

Apparently the archdemon found this especially funny. She was beginning to think that the entire thing was a hoax when she felt a faint buzzing in her head. Her entire body seemed to pulse. She glanced around and was shocked to discover that her comrades were giving off a strange glow. She stared at her blood soaked hands and saw that her veins had become more pronounced. _How odd…_Such an increase in her abilities was quite intoxicating. Should they survive the Blight, she thought that perhaps more Wardens would want to know about this little piece of information.

She scooted over to Alistair and placed her hands on his head. She attempted a healing spell, and to her great satisfaction, she felt the bone repairing itself beneath her fingertips. She smiled and continued to pour healing energy into him until she heard him mumble softly.

"Sol? Ugh, my head…Maker…What happened?" He tried to get up, but Solona pressed down on his chest. Her relief was palpable.

"You were injured. Quite badly, actually. It took a while for me to be able to heal you."

He blinked and gave her a bleary eyed look. "Did we kill that strange booby monster?"

She felt the laughter bubble up inside her and it wasn't long before she was bent over double, giggling hysterically. "Yes, we killed the booby monster," she said between gasps.

One corner of Alistair's mouth kicked up into a grin. He grasped her hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm glad you're okay."

She smiled at him warmly. "Likewise."


	18. The Hunger

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own Dragon Age. I own...Hm. Another pair of nice boots?

**A/N: **This chapter's a short one, only because I wanted to devote this scene to a single chapter. I didn't want it to get lost amongst other plot points. That having been said, there's some sexiness that may or may not render this NSFW. It's...well, mild by my standards, but you never know. I don't think it's quite enough to merit a rating change though. Enjoy, and many thanks to all of my gorgeous readers and reviewers!

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_I was just a skinny lad  
Never knew no good from bad,  
But I knew life before I left my nursery,  
Left alone with big fat Fanny,  
She was such a naughty nanny!  
Hey big woman you made a bad boy out of me!_

_~Fat Bottomed Girls – Queen~_

_They all think I'm a freak. Every last one of them. I can't say that I blame them, I mean, if I saw myself I'd probably think I was a freak too. I guess writing here will get some of the steam out so I don't go all bug shit on them. I don't even look at my reflection, because every time I do, I see those hideous black veins just underneath the surface of my skin. Luckily they're not zig-zagging and criss-crossing on my entire body, but they're there, just at the edges of my face, snaking inward and making it so I look like I got a really shitty tattoo. I wonder if it's permanent? I'd ask Eziel, but she hasn't shown up since we left the Deep Roads after helping out Caridin. _

_We managed to get the help of the dwarves though. Harrowmont promised to send his men when we needed them. That's two out of three treaties. We managed to get all the way to Denerim without too much drama. Alistair hardly looks at me anymore. It's like he knows I ate that…stuff to help him live, and he's probably revolted by it. Or maybe he's just disgusted by me in general. I'm not really much to look at anymore. He's probably also pissed by the way I handled his sister. Oh did I mention that little tidbit? He has a sister in Denerim, and she's a total bitch. Tried to scrounge some money out of the poor guy. I nearly unleashed some serious fire power, but I guess Alistair sensed that and held me back. Unfortunately the entire confrontation left him feeling pretty down on himself. And what did yours truly offer by way of advice? "Learn to look out for yourself, no one else will." Shit, no wonder he's been giving me weird looks. _

_We've been staying at the Pearl for a couple of days, seeing as we managed to do that little favour for Sanga. She's actually a really nice woman. After spending weeks on the hard ground in a less than stellar bedroll, I won't complain about a bed that was once someone else's love nest. At least I can take comfort in the fact that the bed has seen more action than me, har-har. Anyhow, I think it's best I pack it in for the night. Writing all this out is both cathartic and exhausting._

**~*O*~*O*~**

His hands were sweating. Maker, he'd faced ogres, abominations, demons and who knew what else, and the mere thought of speaking to her about _that_ scared the crap out of him. He lifted his fist to knock on her door, then lowered it again. Who was he kidding? Why would she be interested in someone like him? She was so powerful, so bloody beautiful. The likes of Zevran and Leliana trailed her about like imprinted mabari hounds. No way she'd want him pawing at her like some virginal puppy. He was just about to turn tail and leave when the door swung open, and he was met with those beautiful, imploring obsidian eyes. Her lips, like delicate rose petals, were parted in confusion. Maker, he had it bad. His gaze travelled the length of her, from her adorably full cheeks, to her abundant figure, straight down to her bare feet peeking out from her night shift. He longed to pull her close and whisper into her ear. To tell her how much he cared…that he was besotted…that he wanted to share this night with her. Would she laugh? Look upon him scornfully? He wasn't sure he could bear the embarrassment.

"Alistair?" she asked softly. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." She shifted her gaze to the floor. "I know I look…strange." He frowned. She thought he was put off by her? "And I know we'd been, well, flirting in the past, but I understand that given recent events you might be rethinking the-"

"You think a few little interesting markings on your face are enough to-"

Solona started backing into her room. "I mean, I know they're pretty off-putting. Heck, even I find them disturbing." She continued to back away from him as he pursued her into her bed chambers. He could tell that she was unsure of herself, of her own sex appeal. Not that Alistair was an authority on such subjects, he only knew what he felt, and what he felt was a burning need to press her up against the wall and devour her.

"I don't find them disturbing in the least…" his voice had grown husky, and he'd backed her into a corner. She brought up her hands and pressed her palms against his chest.

"Why are you…I'm not wearing that perfume Zevran gave me…I don't understand…" she murmured.

He chuckled and dipped his head down, his lips brushing against her ear. "Do you really think it was that silly perfume that made me want you?" When she didn't reply he boxed her in, pressing his hands on the wall on either side of her head. "When I'm with you, you _do_ things to me. I become some sort of…animal. And when you told me to look out for myself…well, let's just say I've decided to start taking that little piece of advice." When she opened her lips to object, his mouth slanted over hers. He brought his hands down to pull her closer. She moaned softly into his mouth. He responded by nipping at her lower lip. He cupped her lush backside and lifted her, pressing her against the wall. He knew that she could feel his arousal pressing into her belly. He wanted her now. She was his. He could sense the taint in her, and it screamed at him to claim her once and for all. He was once considered the bumbling Chantry boy, all hands. Not anymore. Not with her. She gasped as he reached between her soft, cushioned thighs and ripped away her smalls. His lips travelled the length of her neck as he discarded his own undergarments in one fevered motion. He heard her gasping his name as he plunged into her. He was exactly where he was supposed to be. The deeper he pushed, the louder her cries became. He was a man possessed, and as he neared his ending, a sudden urge came over him. His lips curled away from his teeth and he bit her shoulder. It was an act of savagery, and it was enough to draw blood. She let loose a tiny shriek. He could feel her beginning to heal the wound, but he used his abilities to stop her. She now bore his mark. He licked the wound clean and rested his head against her shoulder. He'd been sated. For now.

Several hours later they lay curled against one another. His arm was draped possessively over her abdomen. No matter what happened in the weeks and months to come, she was his. He was her shield. Forever and always.


	19. Sibling Rivalry

**Disclaimer: **Bioware and EA own DA. I own a yoga membership card.

**A/N: **I have no excuse for how long this took to post. All I can say is that it has been a crappy couple of months, especially health-wise. This chapter will seem choppy, mostly because some new plotlines are being introduced, so playthrough action had to be sacrificed. I promise not to do it again ;) Also, the amazing and beautiful **Natmonkey** drew an epic picture of Solona, which is currently my avvie, and can be found here: natmonkey . deviantart. com /art/Solona-211421085 (no spaces) and check out her other work too, she's incredibly talented. *Hearts* On with the show!

* * *

_She wants to be a deity and rule us everyday  
And punish the wars of your rich gods and the martyrs that they slay  
She wants to see galaxies  
All the planets and the stars  
She wants to be a fallen angel without the swollen scars_

_She's unclean_

_~Fillthee – Otep~_

She was being eaten alive. The dragon had her in its jaws and she felt as though her ribs were piercing her lungs. She could sense that Wynne had cast a Lifeward spell on her, but part of her wished the older woman hadn't bothered. To die would have been preferable. She'd had a taste of true happiness in Alistair's arms, her life was already more than half over since she'd gorged on that disgusting darkspawn flesh…all in all death didn't sound too horrible.

Suddenly she was hurtling to the ground. She landed in a heap, her breath ragged and shallow. The dragon's head landed next to her. With great effort she craned her neck and saw Alistair on the dragon's back, his sword coated in the beast's blood. He'd cleaved the point of his shield between the dragon's ribs and had obviously beheaded the damn thing for good measure. He leapt from the creature in one fluid motion and rushed to Solona's side. Wynne was close behind.

"Will she live?" he asked the spirit healer.

Wynne glanced up at Alistair. "Yes, though she will be very sore for several days." Once Wynne had finished her healing process, Solona struggled into a seated position.

"That's not something I want to relive any time soon," she muttered while rubbing her head.

"High dragons are definitely serious business," Alistair said.

Solona raised a brow at him. "Oh really? And just how many have you fought?"

He blushed. "Well, just the one, but you saw how big it was!"

She chuckled and soon regretted doing so when a sharp pain lanced through her midsection. "I don't even want to know what's next."

Leliana, who had kept her distance in order to best utilize the bow she'd taken from Marjolaine, jogged over to the rest of the group. "Is everyone alright?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "I saw the dragon snatch Solona up in it's jaws and was worried that she was…"

"Dead?" Solona finished for her. "No, not yet. But if there's anything worse than a dragon from here until we get the ashes, I quit."

**~*O*~*O*~**

"Ridiculous!" Solona exclaimed. "We could have fallen to our deaths. The riddles weren't too horrible, but the thought of falling into that pit…" she shuddered. "What next?"

Wynne pointed toward the flames blocking their way to the altar. "I believe we must cleanse ourselves. In order to do so, we must disrobe."

Solona shifted from one foot to the other in discomfort. "Do we really? I mean, can't we just run through in our underwear?"

"I'm afraid not," Wynne replied.

Solona sighed and unfastened her pauldron and began to unlace her robes.

"Need any help?" came a whisper in her ear. She turned and saw Alistair grinning impishly. He'd already done away with the top half of his armour, and Solona had to resist the urge to lick the muscular planes of his abdomen.

"I think I can manage," she choked out. He winked at her and returned to removing his greaves.

Soon the foursome was completely nude. Wynne, Leliana and Solona attempted to shield their girly parts with their arms, while Alistair attempted to cup himself to avoid any curious glances. After much hesitation, they stepped through the flames and remained unscathed.

"Cool trick," Solona muttered. She gazed up at the altar and saw the urn that supposedly held Andraste's sacred ashes. For all she knew it could have been a pot full of the ashes of some drunken wastrel. Regardless of who or what they were she climbed the stairs leading to the urn. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Leliana was in tears. Alistair was merely staring up at the urn, a mild reverence filling his gaze. Solona thought briefly of how Sten might react to the ashes. _He'd probably call the urn a garbage can or something,_ she thought while smiling to herself. She reached into the urn and took a pinch of the ashes. She placed the ashes into a small leather pouch and proceeded down the stairs to return to her clothing.

**~*O*~*O*~**

_It was a long trek back to Redcliffe, and I was sure the damn ashes wouldn't help at all. Much to my delight, they brought the Arl out of his comatose state. Whether it was the ashes that healed him or not, I don't really care. The Arlessa seemed extremely grateful, which is a big change for her. Next we head to the Brecilian Forest to gain the aid of the-_

"Warden?"

Solona glanced up from her journal and saw Isolde standing over her. "Yes?"

The Orlesian woman handed Solona the folded piece of parchment she'd been holding. The parchment had a red ribbon tied around it. Solona recognized this symbol immediately. "I was told to give this to you as soon as you returned." She was about to turn and leave, but seemed to think better of it. "_Vive l'Orlais_," she whispered to Solona. As she left Solona rolled her eyes at the Arlessa's back. She did not relish reading the contents of the letter. She let loose a tortured sigh, untied the ribbon and unfolded the parchment.

_My dearest sister,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. When I had heard that you had been conscripted into the Grey Wardens, I could scarcely believe my ears. My little sister, a Grey Warden? Impossible. I had brushed the very notion off as gossip at first, but soon began hearing stories of your heroic accomplishments. I am so proud of you._

_I still regret the day father had you sent to the Circle of Magi in a completely different country. He could be very cruel at times. I've missed you terribly, which is why I would like to see you again. I know you will defeat this wretched archdemon and survive, and once that is all over, you must come to Orlais and meet with me. I propose we meet at a tavern, perhaps the one that was run by that fellow you always referred to as "Monsieur Cornichon"._

_I look forward to hearing from you._

_Love,_

_Your Sister_

Solona was tempted to toss the letter into the fireplace, but she knew running away from her sister would do no good. She reached into her bag and extracted a single piece of vellum that she had packed away. She scrawled a short response indicating that she would indeed meet her when and if she survived the battle against the archdemon. She tucked the letter away until morning, when she could find a messenger willing to travel all the way to Orlais for a silly letter.

"Writing in your journal?"

Solona glanced up and saw Alistair leaning in the doorway. She smiled and rose to her feet. "Yeah, I needed to vent a bit and writing always helps."

Alistair closed the gap between them and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her forehead. "You know you can always vent to me."

"I know," she responded. She shivered with pleasure as Alistair gently ran his fingertips up and down the length of her back.

"How are you feeling?" his voice had taken on the husky timbre that he adopted any time he was feeling particularly amorous.

Solona grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Much better now that you're here." She groaned. "Damn, that was cheesy."

He chuckled. "You forget, dear lady, that I am very fond of cheese." He lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. As his tongue slid into the depths of her mouth, Solona couldn't help but forget all about her anger toward her sister.

**~*O*~*O*~**

One moment she was curled up in Alistair's bed, and the next she was sitting beneath a large oak tree. She frowned and glanced around at her surroundings.

"We need to talk."

Solona let out a yelp and jumped to her feet. She checked behind the tree and saw Eziel. It dawned on her that she must be in the Fade. "What do you want?" she asked exasperatedly.

"You will not be seeing me for a while, _elska_," Eziel replied. "I intend to make myself scarce once you enter the Brecilian forest."

"And why is that?" Solona asked wearily.

Eziel shrugged a shoulder. "I do not like elves."

Solona was slightly shocked by this admission. "Why not?"

"That is my business, _elska_. You needn't worry yourself. I only meant to warn you in case you should require my assistance. I won't be there to provide it." Before Solona could think of a proper response, Eziel disappeared, leaving Solona to wonder why in the world someone, some_thing_ like Eziel would dislike elves. The being seemed to hold equal contempt for every race. Solona intended to do a bit of studying before venturing out to the Brecilian forest.


	20. Blood Wound

**Disclaimer:** Bioware and EA own Dragon Age. I own this very cool comb that people always want to touch. O.o

**A/N: **Alrighty, we're starting the chappie off with a classic LOTR quote. As you read this chapter, I'd like you to keep a couple of things in mind: I'm not doing a detailed walkthrough if you haven't already guessed. I'm concentrating more on events that don't happen in game. I'll still incorporate the major quests, but I won't go into massive detail. Also, Isabela has a labret piercing in DA2. Just remember that. =)

**Warning: **This chapter contains elements of torture/graphic violence. Also, there's a very naughty word at the end.

* * *

_I'll make a beast out of myself, gets rid of all the pain of being a man.  
Can't you help me as I'm startin' to burn (all alone).  
Too many doses and I'm starting to get an attraction.  
My confidence is leaving me on my own (all alone).  
No one can save me and you know I don't want the attention._

_~Bat Country – Avenged Sevenfold~_

"You shall not pass."

Solona frowned at the Dalish elf blocking her path. "What do you mean 'I shall not pass'?"

"There is great evil within you. It emanates from your very spirit," the elven sentry replied.

Solona threw up her arms in exasperation. It had taken them days to find the Dalish aravel within the Brecilian forest, and now that they had finally happened upon it, they were refusing her entry.

"You would be hard pressed to find an individual who didn't have evil within their spirit," Morrigan piped up from behind Solona.

Solona nodded emphatically. "Yeah, what she said." Morrigan rolled her eyes and smirked.

"While that may be, there is something different about the evil within the Warden," the sentry said.

"Mithra, what is going on here?"

The elven sentry, Mithra, turned and bowed her head to a male elf who ventured up to their group. "These people seek entry into our camp. Two claim to be Grey Wardens. I have barred the female Warden from entering. She has far too much evil within her," Mithra explained.

"I see," he replied. "While I do sense this evil you speak of, I also sense that it is separate from the Warden's soul. She may enter with the rest." He faced Solona and inclined his head. ""I am Zathrian, the keeper of this clan, its guide, and preserver of our ancient lore."

Solona tilted her head to one side. "So you're sort of like a spiritual leader?"

"In a way," he responded. "I assume you have come to seek assistance in the Blight? I'm afraid that we would be of little help."

"Yes, it seems like you have had your own troubles. What are the odds?" Alistair muttered.

Zathrian explained that his clan had been infected by werewolves (which Solona thought was a joke and laughed, but promptly shut her mouth when Zathrian gave her the most intense death glare she'd ever seen) and that in order to gain their help against the Blight, the Wardens and company would need to kill the leader of the pack of wolves, Witherfang.

"We have to cut out his heart?" Solona exclaimed. She suddenly felt weary. Zathrian's self-righteous attitude was beginning to annoy her, and she wondered just how accurate his side of the story was. Regardless, she knew she would have to delve deeply into the woods to seek the answers to her many questions. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Zathrian, is there anything in your lore about a being named Eziel?"

The keeper's brow furrowed, and he eventually shook his head. "No, the name is not familiar. Why do you ask?"

Solona sighed and waved her hand dismissively. "Nevermind. Just something I was curious about." She saw that Alistair was giving her a questioning look and she mouthed 'later' to him.

**~*O*O*~**

He knew that she needed to do it. Logically she'd had no other choice. That didn't mean he had to like it.

She'd used blood magic again. She _really_ had no choice. Morrigan was being decimated by a shadow werewolf within their lair, and stopping to drink a lyrium potion simply wasn't an option. He grimaced as she sliced the palm of her hand with a dirk and cast one of the most powerful spells he'd ever seen. She forced the shadow werewolf to attack his allies instead of Morrigan. Alistair watched as Solona made graceful motions with her hands. One would assume she was a conductor for some sort of sick musical assembly. It sent a chill down his spine. He kept wondering if her use of blood magic would eventually corrupt her and lead her to take control of-

_Stop. Just stop. You can't think that way,_ he told himself.

When they finally defeated the shadow werewolves, Shale turned her glowing gaze onto Solona. "Will it perform the same trick on its friends? Mages seem to enjoy taking control of other creatures."

Ashamed though Alistair was, he listened intently to her response.

"No Shale, I will not be using that spell on any of my friends under any circumstances. I actually hate doing it. It freaks me out, being in full control of another being," she said. "Too bad Eziel can't say the same," she mumbled.

"I suppose we will have to take it at its word," Shale retorted.

Alistair released the breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding.

**~*O*O*~**

Witherfang and the Lady of the Forest were one and the same. Alistair had suspected as much, and his suspicions were confirmed by none other than Zathrian himself who'd taken it upon himself to follow them into the ancient tombs. Alistair had to admit, after hearing the Lady's version of the events he couldn't help but feel sorry for the werewolves. No one should have to suffer the punishment for someone else's crimes.

They eventually found out that Zathrian alone had the power to lift the curse plaguing not only the descendants of those he sought to punish, but his own people as well. At first he refused to lift the curse, but after some friendly 'persuasion' from Alistair, Solona, Morrigan and Shale, the keeper finally relented. In lifting the curse, however, he himself perished. Somehow the curse had been keeping him alive. Alistair wondered if perhaps that was the real reason he had initially refused to give in.

Once they'd returned to the Dalish camp, they reported a slightly skewed version of events to Zathrian's apprentice, Lanaya. They claimed that Zathrian had died a hero. Perhaps in a way that was true, though he'd behaved quite selfishly for many years. Lanaya, who was announced the new keeper, promised the Wardens the aid that they needed.

**~*O*O*~**

The return trip would be much quicker since they knew where they were going. After several hours of steady travel, the group decided to set up camp near the outskirts of the Brecilian forest. Solona took first watch. As her companions slept, she ran through several meditative techniques to become more in tune with her surroundings. She'd just entered her second hour of meditation when she heard a branch snap nearby. Her eyes flew open and she searched for the source of the disturbance. When several minutes went by without any further signs of life, she closed her eyes once again. That was when the linen bag was shoved over her head, and a meaty hand clamped over her mouth.

"Scream and I'll slit your throat," someone hissed into her ear. She felt herself being dragged away. At some point her assailant tied her wrists together, gagged her and pushed her to the ground. He (she could tell it was a he by the sound of his voice) grabbed her bound wrists above her head and started to drag her over the rocky terrain of the forest. She couldn't gauge how far exactly, she was much too distracted by the ground scraping against her legs. Her leggings began to rip, and the skirt of her robes rode up her thighs. She attempted to cast several spells to no avail. _Must be a flaming templar,_ she thought sourly. She wondered when they would stop trying to kill her. The word 'never' seemed to be the answer to her question. Eventually he stopped and stripped the sack from her head. She glanced around and found that she was in a small shack. A fireplace burned in one corner, and she was filled with dread as her eyes landed upon the steel rod that had one end sitting in the flames. A set of calipers hung from one wall, and a makeshift rack stood at the center of the room. Dried blood covered the floor, and Solona felt bile rise up in her throat. Two other templars were stationed in the shack, both leaning against a wall. The templar that had dragged her to the remote location shoved her against the rack. The wood pressed painfully into her abdomen. He grasped her hair and tugged her head back.

"Welcome to our little party," he said jovially. "Allow me to introduce you to my compatriots," he pointed to one templar. "Bitch, this is Simon. Simon, this is the bitch. As for the other, well, we just call him Scar. I imagine you can see why." Solona did in fact understand why the templar was nicknamed Scar. It was as though someone had sliced the corner of his mouth, and moved upward to his cheekbone. "Now, can you guess why we've brought you here?" She tried to shake her head, but his grip on her hair tightened, making any movement impossible. "You killed our brethren. For that you'll pay." He grabbed her throat with his free hand, spun her around and pulled her forcefully onto the rack. He attached her bound wrists to the top end, while Scar grasped her feet and tied them to the other end. She tried kicking at the bastard, but he overpowered her easily. She already felt weak from the constant smiting that prevented her from casting. "We had this nice little cabin set up for filthy mages like you. You lot tend to run to the Brecilian forest or the Wilds to try and hide from us, but we always find you," he grinned, revealing a perfect set of teeth. "In fact, we captured a cabal of blood mages not too far from here. Having this shack at the edge of the forest has certainly proven handy." With that, he slammed her head against the wood and ripped the gag from her mouth. "Now then, down to business. Confess your sins to us, and perhaps you'll be spared the pain of the rack."

"I'll take the rack over submitting to you any day," she choked out.

The templar grinned maliciously. "I was hoping you'd say that." He reached out and began to turn the wheel that acted as a mechanism to stretch the rack. Solona's arms and legs were pulled in opposite directions, and the pain was almost unbearable. She let out a cry as her torturer increased the tension, thus causing a larger pull to her limbs. "Now, let's try that again. Confess your sins. We want to have on record that you committed the crimes so that you can be publically executed." He chuckled to himself, "just think, the famous Warden that everyone has been cheering about admits to being a monster."

"The only monster I see here is you," Solona spat. She was rewarded with further tightening of the rack. She was sure that at any moment her limbs would dislocate from their sockets. She was in agony, and there was nothing she could do about it. No one would know where she was. Her breathing became ragged as they continued to lengthen her body, and spittle dribbled from the corners of her mouth.

"Confess…"

"Never, you piece of shit!" she screamed out in pain.

Her torturer laughed mockingly. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Someone ought to do something about that dirty little tongue of yours." He gestured to Simon. "Get me the calipers," he demanded. Solona's eyes widened as he brought the rusty tool to her lips. "Open wide, love." She clamped her mouth shut. While Simon held her head in place, Scar pinched her nose until she was forced to breathe through her mouth. As soon as she opened her mouth, he pried open her jaws, while her torturer reached into her mouth and grasped her tongue with his fingertips. He pulled, revealing just enough tongue to clamp down with the calipers. Tears poured from her eyes. "Stud," he demanded. Scar released his grip and reached to a nearby table, grabbing a small, metallic object. It resembled an earring, but with a metallic ball on one end and a grooved spike on the other. Lining the sharp end on her tongue, the torturer pushed down. She felt the muscles tear as the stud was forced through her tongue. Once it was through the other side, he was handed another small piece of metal, which he screwed onto the grooved end to fasten it into place. Blood and saliva poured from Solona's lips. Her head was swimming from the pain. "Now you'll always remember who is in charge," the torturer smiled down at her. He moved away from her, toward the fireplace, and saw him grasp the rod. She closed her eyes as he approached her once more.

**~*O*O*~**

When she came to, she was being dragged once again. They were past the trees of the forest and had come to a dirt path.

"Ah, you're awake," the torturer said. "We'll be taking you to a small Chantry just west of here. Mother Margaret is looking forward to seeing you again."

Solona's blood ran cold. She remembered Mother Margaret all too well. She was a religious zealot who believed all mages should be put to death. Solona could only imagine the kind of greeting she'd receive from that witch. After an hour of walking, and Solona dragging, the templars dumped her against a tree and set up camp.

"Now, don't you go getting any wild ideas about escaping. One of us will be awake at all times to make sure you stay right where you are," the torturer patted her head the way he would a dog. He enjoyed the way her head hung in defeat. "That's a good girl." But his eyes narrowed when Solona suddenly started laughing. It was a throaty sound, worn down from her constant screaming in the hut. "What are you laughing at, whore?" When she raised her head, she fixed him with the blackest gaze he'd ever seen. The whites of her eyes had disappeared.

"Looks like we're out of the woods," she whispered menacingly. "Now the _real_ fun can begin."

The torturer resisted the urge to back away. "You're powerless to us. We've smote you so many times that-"

"You think your pitiful tricks can work on _me_?" she interrupted. With a strength that was near impossible, she snapped the ropes that bound her wrists. "_Sit down!_" she commanded. Her voice was interwoven with several others, and the torturer could not help but do as he was told. He felt a trickling down the sides of his face. It seemed to be coming from his ears. "What are you?" he gasped.

"_My name is Eziel_," she replied in her demonic voice. "_And you're all fucked._" She smiled malevolently and descended upon their helpless forms.


End file.
